Seizonsha no Fukushuu
by Timekeeper101
Summary: Sequel to Jizen Keiji. L and Keiko are married and settled with their two kids. Unfortunately, there are a few people who are still sore over the past... and they want revenge on L. LxOC; MelloxOC; MattxOC; slight NearxOC. Rated M to be safe.
1. In the Realm of the Shinigami

_Okay, I know a lot of you have been looking forward to this, and I'll warn you all, the posting may be slower at first, as my finals are coming up in a couple of weeks... but I do have a few chapters written. Chapter two, sadly, won't be posted until next week. Sorry. But at least I warned you, okay?? Anyway, we've got the thing basically mapped out, so... uh... yeah... We got a sequel. A whole sequel. Be proud. Be very very proud. And review honestly, please. If it sucks, we want to know so's we can do something about it, a'ight?? Got it? Good. On to the sequel!!!_

_Cool!! Now that we've got that down... about the story itself!! This story was hard to categorize, cuz it includes a bit of everything: mystery, action, suspense, romance (hey, L and Keiko are still central characters), friendship, hurt/comfort, family... yeah. It's got a lot going on. And y'know? It may end up being fifty chapters. A plus for you guys. Anyway, L and Keiko are obviously together; Mello will have an OC, as requested; Near will also have an OC. As to how close they'll get, well, you'll have to find out. This isn't gonna completely turn romantic on y'all!! XD No, I think we had enough of that in _Jizen. _There will be some, but not a ton. Rating might go up later, too, but currently, it's all T-rated. But there will be a tick of language smattered throughout; probably some innuendos as well... just be forewarned._

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**_Disclaimer: I do not own_ Death Note.**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_! Aided/abetted by _**Madeline Cullen**_!! THANKS SO MUCH, GUYS!! YOU BOTH ROCK!!_

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**CHAPTER 1 - IN THE REALM OF THE SHINIGAMI**

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December, 2004

"Ryu-u-u-uk-sama, please let me have my notebook back!" Sidoh whined as he continually tapped the darker shinigami on the shoulder.

Growling, Ryuk finally relented—this had been going on for a week, and Sidoh refused to leave Ryuk alone. "_Fine!_ Take your damn notebook. Don't leave it layin' around so much, you idiot…"

"_Thank_ you!" cried the desperate shinigami as Ryuk tossed the notebook back toward him. "Thank you, Ryuk-sama!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't _Ryuk-sama_ me, Sidoh." Ryuk rolled his eyes and stalked off toward one of the portals to the human world, where he could sit and watch Light sitting in prison. That was sure to bring him a laugh or two… or maybe he would see what the scrawny detective and his woman were doing… if they were eating one another's faces again, he could laugh at that, too. And thanks to Sidoh, he definitely needed a laugh…

Nearby, under the brick-and-bone arch, two shinigami sat sulking. They weren't the only ones, either—most of the shinigami realm was either sulking or raging at Akira, who'd won out on most of the bets on the outcome of the L vs. Kira battle. Neither would he let anyone live it down, either. Akira spent all of his time strutting around the shinigami realm, decked out in bangles, pendants, fancy clothes, and other paraphernalia.

"Look at him," snarled Deridovely, who was especially sore. He'd hated Akira for centuries—they were polar opposites. Well, that, and Akira loved teasing Deridovely, something he couldn't STAND. On top of this, but Akira had taken Deridovely's best scythe in the bet.

Presently, Deridovely gestured to Akira, who was parading himself around several yards away. "Wins one bet and he's king of the world…"

"How's come I can't win a bet?" grumbled Gukku, a more animalistic shinigami in appearance. He resembled a sort of tribal depiction of a god, what with his enormous bull's skull-head hunched down over his extremely shaggy body—like an African body shield-cum-mask of some kind—as opposed to Deridovely's thin, hunched, bandage-covered form.

Deridovely rolled his eyes—or rather, _would_ have, if he'd had any eyeballs in his sockets. "You _never_ win any bets, Gukku."

"Oh, yeah…"

No, neither of these particular shinigami were the sharpest tools in the shed…

"I swear, if I could find a way to get revenge on that no-good prissy queen…"

Gukku gave him a strange look. "Uh… what the hell you talkin' about?"

"It means he's _gay_, you idiot!"

"Oh…"

"No wonder you don't win no bets! You're too stupid!" Deridovely shook his bony head, but then, stopped. "Wait a minute… I got an idea! We need to get Akira back for nicking our stuff!"

Gukku thought about this for a second. "Oh, yeah, great idea!"

"But how…?"

"Oh…"

"What're you boys doing?" came a snide voice above them. They both looked up to see Daril Ghiroza perched on the arch above their heads, sneering down at them. "Did I hear something about _revenge_ on _Akira_?"

"Uh… hey, Daril-sama!" exclaimed Gukku nervously. As the third-ranking shinigami in the realm, she was definitely someone to be feared. Only Armonia Justin, Nu, and the king were over her. (1) "N-n-no, we weren't… planning anything!!"

"I see…" Sighing, Daril leapt down to land between the two shinigami, cracking her neck nonchalantly as if she'd not just eavesdropped on a conversation at all—as if she didn't even know Gukku and Deridovely were even there. "Hm. I suppose you won't want my help, then," she commented casually as she began to stalk away.

They paused. Finally, Deridovely gasped. "Wait, Daril-sama!"

She stopped and turned, smirking. "I see…"

"_What are you doing?!_" Gukku hissed. "She'll report us and kill us!"

"Idiot! The old man doesn't care! And she's got reason to hate Akira, too! He's got her red cape, remember?"

"Oh, yeah…" Deridovely's fist came down between Gukku's horns. "Ow!!"

Daril squatted down beside the two. "Now, what's the deal, boys?" Without removing her gaze from either of them, she began dealing a pack of cards.

"We don't know! You ain't told us what you're playing!" Deridovely snapped.

"No, you imbecile. What are you planning?"

Gukku nodded in understanding. "Ohh… we wanna get Akira back for doing Nicholas!"

Deridovely smacked his forehead. "No, _nicking_ is slang for _stealing_, not _Nicholas_."

"OH! That makes so much more sense!"

"Idiot…"

Daril sighed again. The only reason she was cooperating with them was because she could help them formulate a plan in which they did all the dirty work; there would be no consequence to herself in the gaining of vengeance upon the shinigami who'd taken her favorite cape. "You want revenge on Akira, yes?"

"Uh-huh…" Gukku nodded. "He took my wooden necklace…"

"Tragic." She rolled her eyes again. "All right, boys. Bets in."

"We ain't bettin' nothing!" Deridovely hissed. "You think we crazy or something?"

"No, you fool. We shall pretend we are gambling. I wouldn't be caught alive with you, otherwise." Daril shook her head. Really, they were such idiots… "We shall talk quietly of what we are planning. How far are you going in your pursuit of revenge?"

"We off 'im," snarled Deridovely. "That creep's been getting on my nerves for too long…"

"Okay with me," Gukku agreed. "But… is that possible?"

"Death," Daril remarked as she set a metal belt buckle in the center, her bet. "Now, do either of you know how to kill a shinigami?"

Gukku shrugged, but Deridovely cocked his head. "I heard somethin' about that, but I don't remember no details…"

"I see. Suffice it to say that I do…" said Daril softly.

Deridovely smiled cruelly. "Excellent."

"Are there any humans Akira has any sort of feelings for?"

"Oh, oh," Gukku said excitedly. "I know! That L guy and his pregnant lady!"

"Fine." Daril discarded absently as she thought. "Are you sure of this?"

"Oh, yeah!" He nodded vigorously, shedding several yellowy-brown hairs as he did so.

Daril's nostrils flared at this disgusting display. She was a shinigami, but she did like to be clean—or at least well-groomed. "Hm. You need to find someone who has ample reason to kill either one or the other—or both. And someone who's not Kira. Akira will be watching Kira, as will Ryuk. Neither can it be the blonde girl who was involved—Misa, I think her name was… Rem will be looking out for her. You must use someone unknown to Akira. That will require a great deal of searching…" Deridovely's and Gukku's faces fell. "But, think of how good you'll both feel after going so far to gain revenge. The shinigami king might even see your intelligence and regard you both more highly."

Deridovely and Gukku exchanged glances. They were interested, now!

Daril smiled wickedly. "Once you find someone, come and find me. We will then see how to further act…" Smoothly, she stood, collecting her cards and belt buckle. "Nice playing with you, boys."

It was several minutes later when Gukku realized he was missing his wooden bracelet and Deridovely noticed that his scythe-cleaning-cloth was gone.

"Damn that Daril!" Deridovely growled loudly. "We ain't trustin' her again!"

"But we're gonna need her help, Deri…"

"Shut up! I didn't say we weren't gonna use her smarts, I said we wasn't gonna trust her!"

"She has smarts? Can I have some?"

"Not _Smartees_, you idiot!"

"Oh…"

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**June 2008**

Deridovely strolled casually through the shinigami realm in search of Daril, who was found over by the arch under which they'd last plotted against Akira. "You up for some cards…?" he asked casually.

She looked up and grinned evilly. "I wouldn't miss it."

She followed him over to the edge of the huge cliffs that towered over half the realm, where Gukku was seated, waiting his friend's return. Daril and Deridovely both were seated, and Gukku couldn't help but blurt out the news: "We found a guy!"

"So I assumed," Daril purred. "What is his name?"

"Ansel Alessandro," Deridovely supplied quietly. "He was gonna be L's replacement in case something ever happened to him, but he quit cuz it was too hard—even faked his own suicide. Now that he's older, he's in better control of himself, and he wants to get rid of L so's he can take over…"

"I see," said Daril, mulling over this new information. "And does this Ansel Alessandro have a way of taking over…?"

"Uh… no," Gukku pointed out, hanging his head more than usual.

"Not to worry," Daril assured them. "Deridovely, give Gukku your Death Note."

"Wha—?" he exclaimed. "No! That's against the rules!"

Daril thrust her dark, skull-like face up to his, her orange eyes gleaming dangerously. "Do it."

"O-o-o-okay…"

Pulling back, Daril composed herself. "I know this can work. It's against the rules, but there are no consequences for such a rule. This was evident from the dealings between Ryuk and Sidoh…"

"What'd they do?" Gukku wondered.

"Idiot, weren't you paying attention during the L vs. Kira battle?" Daril snapped. "Ryuk stole Sidoh's Death Note so that he could give a notebook to the Yagami boy. Sidoh didn't even notice until Ryuk returned. He survived for a whole year without it. If you need to, start building up a repertoire of kills right now. You will not be harmed by this."

"Um… I'm okay," Deridovely said. Gukku took the notebook and stuffed it under his mane of hair, concealing it. How it stayed there, neither Daril nor Deridovely wanted to know.

"Good. Now, I want you to give one of those notebooks to this Ansel Alessandro," Daril ordered. "Tell him that he can create a distraction for L, which will make it easier for him to draw L out, just like with the Kira case. Understood?"

"Uh-huh!"

"And that way, he can directly confront L and gain his name. Once Akira finds out that Ansel Alessandro wishes to kill L, he will attempt to save his life, thus killing Akira."

Silence greeted this proposal. "Really?!" Gukku exclaimed, in awe of the genius of the plot. "Wow… that's… that's… brilliant!"

"Y'know, it really is a great idea," Deridovely muttered, "but what if this Ansel Alessandro guy doesn't want to give up his notebook? I can't let him keep his paws on it forever…"

"Deri, humans don't have paws," Gukku pointed out, earning a smack from the shinigami. "Ow!!"

"He can't keep it, is that better?! Geez…"

Daril nodded understandingly. "Simple. You come to me, and I'll let you write names in my notebook. You can even kill off this Ansel Alessandro, if you wish. He is of no concern to us; he is merely a tool in this operation."

Gukku smiled broadly. "Wow! You're so smart, Daril-sama!!"

She gave a thin, cruel smile. "Yes, I know."

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(1—Um... this is what it says in _How to Read_, I swear. I mean, she's third in the ranks, but apparently, the shinigami king doesn't count in those. Armonia Justin is 2, and Nu is one.)

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_Note: I don't own ANY of these shinigami, only Akira. Zellogi, Daril Ghiroza, Deridovely, and Gukku are actual characters in _Death Note_. You can look them up in _Death Note 13: How to Read_, or see them in the manga. I think they're briefly in the anime, too._


	2. I am A

**_Disclaimer: I doesn't own der _Death Note.**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_! Extra help/insights/references by _**Madeline Cullen**_!! THANK YOU BOTH!!_

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CHAPTER 2 - I AM A

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Ansel Alessandro stood by the window and stared at the snow as it fell, silently down, down, to cover the earth below with a blanket of solid white. Of course, it wouldn't stay pristine for long; sooner or later, someone or something would come along and sully it, spoiling the bright purity and transforming the beauty of the clear substance into something gray and dirty and disgusting. Very much like himself… Not that he would ever own up to such an analogy; no, he would not, for he had endured whilst everyone else thought him dead and despoiled, much like a muddy snow bank on the side of the road.

But A lived on…

L's true successor. L's first successor…

They'd taken him for insane and suicidal—and so he had been! But he had overcome…

And how was an interesting story, really. Despite the rules prohibiting consorting with the other "heirs"—fraternizing with the enemies, as it were—A had become rather close to another young boy called C. Such degrading names they'd all adopted (been forced to take up), as well. Plan A, Backup, Copy, Duplicate, Emulation… A, B, C, D, E… But he had been the first. And yes, he _had_ been overcome by L's strenuous workload. He was young, and unused to such difficulties. No, _ordeals_, for the work was nothing short of such a description. Hell on earth. No one but L himself could handle such a load, not one of _them_… And A, Ansel Alessandro, would have killed himself had he not devised a plan to escape the torture.

Ironic… everyone thought he _had_ killed himself.

He and C had come up with a scheme for A to escape. C had wanted to stay behind and attempt to carry out his role as the future L. A didn't care. That was C's business. He, however, couldn't stay any longer. They set things up so that A appeared to be dead, had fabricated a funeral—everything. Oh-so clever boys that they were… And they'd fooled Quillish Wammy, the old fool, into believing everything. Even L had bought it, or would have, had he bothered to care. But A was presumed dead. There was a gravesite at Wammy's House to prove it.

But later, C came back to rescue A. It was not a one-man show, and A would acknowledge it any day. That, he believed, was one of L's biggest mistakes: working solo. Most of the time, one mind was all that was needed, but with as big a title as L was attempting to create with his own name (or initial), occasional guidance should almost be required. Pride would get you nowhere if you were too haughty or arrogant to accept it. It was about becoming a protector of the world, not about becoming a renowned persona! A had always despised L for this reason. L was an egotistical, supercilious, conceited fool. Would always be. And A would not support him, nor would he carry out his work.

Not yet.

He had plans… plans that spanned decades. Who would think that a teenage boy would plan that far into the future? But with C's help, A had done so—and it was so _simple!_ He hadn't strayed from his goal; A had carried out this plan to the T.

First, escape. Check.

Second, find a means to support himself: income, shelter, sustenance. Check.

Third, wait until he had the means and human support to turn the tables. Check.

Fourth… well, such was under progress. Formulate a plot that would ultimately result in L's comeuppance. He was still working on that phase of the plan. But it was only a matter of time. Now that A had the help of the London mafia, things were looking up. He had the men, the power, the means to take his revenge on L, to transfer power to himself, and to establish a new hierarchy—an oligarchy, to be more precise. Something like a parliament, with him as the presiding authority.

But there was the problem of the mafia… He'd promised them free reign, but A wasn't stupid, nor did he truly approve of their methods. He would use them, and then dispose of them by throwing them all in jail. He had complete knowledge of the higher-ups and their head—Piers Rayne. By cutting off the top bosses, the mafia would disintegrate, and he would have complete control over London (at least, as far as preserving the peace, which was his ultimate goal), and from there, he would suppress crime all over the world. It was simple in theory, but rather less so in execution…

"Mr. Andrews, sir…"

A turned to stare at the slender man who'd approached him from behind. Huddled in a thick winter coat and scarf, the balding man's nose and cheeks were pink from the cold outside. Flecks of melting snow dusted his clothing, coating his boots up to his knees. "Yes, Norwood?" One thing A had learned in being a solid, trusted leader worth following was to remember everyone's names, even the lowest underlings. This created a mindset that he, as leader, cared about each and every one of them personally, that they were not just peons or pawns. And he would always ask if so-and-so would mind doing such-and-such a task, instead of delegating tasks or commanding errands. No, that would not do. The way to ensure loyalty was to appear down-to-earth when possible, caring and diplomatic. But when a situation called for urgency, take command like a seasoned general and always, _always_ keep a cool head under pressure.

Norwood shivered from the cold. "I've got it, Mr. Andrews. L is staying at the old house on the grounds of the orphanage. I saw a woman and some kids with him—the kids looked like both the woman and him, and I saw they had rings. It seems L has a family."

Because A had given him just-vague-enough instructions, Norwood had been motivated to go above and beyond—maybe he could procure a promotion! At the least, A would be pleased with him. Brownie points helped in the long run. Inwardly, A sneered at the man. _Fool… you'll only be cast in prison. But I know how to work you like a puppet. You'll never see it coming… None of you will. And that's when I'll make my move…_

"I see. Very well done, Norwood. That's all for now…"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir." Norwood left, then, to find his own place to sleep in the abandoned hotel. That building, in and of itself, was a stroke of brilliance on Rayne's part. He'd managed to steal the deed from the men in charge of demolishing it, just before the day of its destruction, and now, there was a scandal about it. No one would ever look inside the condemned building for the deed…

A stared out the window once more, allowing a smile to tug at his lips. "Soon enough, L, soon enough… I shall best you. And then, I shall humiliate you… make your life as miserable as you made mine."

After all, distracting L from his family shouldn't be too hard… not when Kira was back, anyway…

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Dun-dun-dun...!!

_Oh, uh, ahem!! Sorry it's so short, everyone, but yay that I got to update sooner than expected. :) Especially in light of the fact that _Jizen_ is now finished... -.- So weird..._

_Heads-up, L, Keiko, Aimi, Alex, and a new OC are gonna show up in the next chapter, so that's something to look forward to. :) I hope I've portrayed A in a reasonable (reasonable? L's suicidal successor??) and realistic manner... Tell me whatcha think! Review, if you please!!_


	3. Return of the Faceless

_Woot! L and Keiko are back, as are Aimi and Alex!! And a new OC... I hope you guys all like her!! Review and tell me what you think of her._

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_Disclaimer:_ Death Note _ain't mine at all. Wish it was, though._

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy, **_helped out a lot by _**Madeline Cullen.**_ Thanks, guys!_

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CHAPTER 3- RETURN OF THE FACELESS

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July 15, 2011

Keiko Lawliet, or Keiko Lawrence, as she was more commonly known, grinned excitedly as she headed up the front steps of her home of six-and-a-half years. She simply couldn't wait to tell her husband the news…! He'd been the first to know of her promotion (seven years ago), and he would be the first to know once again. Only this time, she was a chief inspector of the London Metropolitan Police (otherwise known as "the Met"), not just a plain inspector in the NPA. There was a very large difference—she was now just under the rank of her so-called Uncle Soichiro Yagami back in Tokyo, who was the detective superintendent there. But her promotion hadn't been as easy to gain as her former position in Tokyo—oh, no! This time, she'd had to start over from the bottom, but with her impressive résumé and undeniable diligence, she'd made it much more quickly—seventeen months, to be exact. Having worked with L on close to two hundred cases (privately) hadn't exactly dulled her deductive skills, and having publicly worked with him eight times wasn't something to be ignored.

Then again, neither was being married to him… not that many people knew that. It was a closely guarded secret.

The only problem was that he wasn't at home. He was off in Bombay on a case, or last she'd heard, he was—which was last evening at nine o'clock. Well, that wasn't about to deter her from telling him! That was what cell phones were for. But Keiko, still fairly new to driving (she'd never had the need for a car back in Tokyo and had thus learned only about three years ago) didn't exactly like to drive and talk on her cell (_mobile_, she corrected herself) simultaneously. Despite the distance between them, however, Keiko was very much looking forward to talking with Lawliet. Her current buoyancy was not about to drop just because her husband had been away for almost two weeks, now…

Not by much, anyway.

It wasn't that she didn't miss him—quite the contrary! It was more that her current cheeriness was just too great for disappointment.

Her mood grew even more when she discovered a smallish package lying on the front step. After a quick check at the return address, she suppressed a squeal of glee. She'd been waiting for this for two weeks—specially shipped from California… something she couldn't _wait_ to use! Granted, using special candy-themed lingerie would be rather difficult to use when Lawliet was off in India, but it was something to look forward to when he returned.

Thus, when she reached for the doorknob, only to have the door opened for her… well, Keiko was extremely shocked and surprised. There stood Lawliet, obviously awaiting her return from work. A few seconds passed wherein she stared at him dumbly, and he smiled at her. "Hello."

Dropping the package and her briefcase, she squealed and threw her arms around him tightly. "I thought you weren't coming home for another five days!"

He chuckled at her enthusiasm, returning her embrace as they awkwardly stepped side to side in the attempt to maintain their balance, thrown off by Keiko's eagerness to see him. "Mm, yes, well, I finished a case early and decided that L needed a few days back with his family before continuing with his work."

Keiko laughed with outright joy at her husband's return, squeezing him close. He pulled back just slightly, only enough to reposition himself to kiss her warmly. "Mm… I missed you, Keiko."

"I missed you, you big goon!" She grinned at him, and began to bounce up and down in her excitement to tell him everything. "Okay, okay, so guess what happened today?"

"Do I get a hint?"

"Work-related."

He paused just slightly. "Judging by your extremely excited demeanor, something positive occurred—something very atypical, I would assume. It probably has nothing to do with your coworkers; I can think of nothing connected to them that would so excite you. Were you, perchance, promoted?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Detective chief inspector!" she sang out, and proceeded to dance around the room.

His grey eyes, more captivating than Keiko remembered (although this was more of a matter of her falling in love with him all over again, a direct result of his choice to come home to see her, Alex, and Aimi), widened in decidedly pleased surprise. "Mm, really? That is excellent news, tenshi!"

"I was really looking forward to calling you, but this is better, I think." She smiled crookedly at him, now standing stationary in the next room as his dark eyes studied her.

A few seconds passed where neither of them said anything; they merely stood there, staring at one another as if neither could believe that the other was there. Lawliet shuffled over to her, a soft smile of contentment on his face as he leaned in slowly to press his lips gently to hers.

This time, when they separated, Keiko slipped past him to close the front door, dragging her briefcase inside and scooping up the small package she'd been so excited about just minutes ago. "Mm, may I inquire after the contents of that box…?"

Keiko grinned up at him. "Oh, you can inquire all you want, but that doesn't mean you'll get an answer. Consider it a 'welcome home' gift that you'll get to open after the kids are in bed…"

If her light, teasing tone, general demeanor, and wide grin were any indications, Lawliet was in for a very enjoyable night. Absolutely infatuated with the way she gazed up at him, he hooked his hand around the back of her neck and leaned in to slowly, lazily kiss her once again.

"Oh, that's gross!" Alex protested, standing in the entryway that separated the foyer from the parlor. "Sick… I can't believe you two…"

Keiko gave him a dry look. "Just wait 'til you hit puberty. You won't think so badly of it, then."

"Catch me kissing a girl!" he challenged defiantly. "I won't!"

"Oh, you'll be kissing boys, then?"

Alex pulled a face and stuck out his tongue at the idea. "No! I won't kiss anyone! Kissing's stupid, anyway."

"On the contrary," Lawliet said with a wry smile. "It's quite enjoyable."

There was a moment of silence, and Alex just walked away. "Grown-ups are so _weird_…"

Keiko paused for a moment. "Sometimes I forget he's only six… He talks like he's so much older…"

Lawliet chuckled, obviously in agreement. "Indeed, he does. We make good children."

That made her laugh. She playfully shoved him away. "You big nerd! I told you, I'd much rather stop at two. Two's hard enough to deal with, as it is…" _Besides_, she added silently, _it's almost like having three kids, with Lawliet. He doesn't do any of the chores, and he's basically an overgrown brat… Why do I love him, again…?_ She sighed and shook her head. The fact that she loved him was not about to change, though she did acknowledge the fact that he was quite spoiled. Not that she helped things by catering to his desires, like baking him constant desserts instead of normal meals, and letting him shirk the household chores. She liked to joke about how hard it was raising three geniuses, and how if Lawliet was the head of the family, she was the spinal cord, backbone, and cerebellum. Then again, he _did_ do a good deal of the parenting, and he did earn the chief income of the family, and made most of the financial decisions, aside from purchasing regular necessities (that was Keiko's department). And what's more, he had the uncanny ability to make Keiko happy at almost any given time, no matter what her mood happened to be. She forgave him for not helping with the dishes and dusting and laundry and such. Besides, Watari did help out with that quite a bit. And the kids were learning to help out with their own chores, which was a major blessing for Keiko.

So all in all, they were happy. Things were run a little strangely in their house, but that was to be expected when a family of four living under the same roof was comprised entirely of geniuses.

"Hey, you guys made me forget!" Alex accused loudly, suddenly back. Keiko and Lawliet looked down at their son.

"And what, pray tell, did we _make_ you forget?" Lawliet queried. "I don't recall voluntarily forcing anything from his mind; do you, tenshi?"

Keiko shook her head. "No, no, I don't. Seems he forgot it on his own."

Alex frowned up at them. "You know what I mean!"

"Do we?" they both remarked at once.

"ARGH!" Alex exclaimed. "Okay, _I_ forgot, which was an indirect cause from you guys! Okay?"

Keiko shrugged, nodding. "That's better, yeah…"

"Okay," he muttered to himself, frustrated. "It's Sampson's birthday over at Wammy's, and Ferdy and Jason and Nicholas are all gonna be there. Starts at eight tonight, and I can come home tomorrow when it's over. Can I go?"

"Ah, the joys of being young," Keiko sighed with a smile, recalling the slumber parties she'd had as a kid. And Alex was young enough that _sleepovers_ with other boys were still okay and not girly—he was only six, after all, despite the fact that he sounded more like a teenager. Well, that, and as he was the only one who actually lived in a house, with a bedroom all to himself, with all sorts of his own belongings—_and_ with living, caring, loving parents—sometimes, getting away from home to spend some time with kids his own age without schoolwork in the way was too good an offer to pass up. And it was a Saturday night; there were no classes over the weekend. Why not? Keiko looked back to Lawliet and shrugged. "Okay with you?"

"Mm, I suppose you may, yes. The general rules still stand, however," he reminded him, knowing Alex remembered the specifics, but not allowing him the loophole of absolute freedom.

The boy nodded. "Okay!! Thanks, Mum! Thanks, Dad!" With that, he ran off, whooping with joy.

Keiko grinned at her son's enthusiasm. "He's getting more like you each day," Lawliet mused softly, padding up to stand behind her. One arm slid smoothly around her waist to pull her close to him.

"I feel sorry for him," Keiko said solemnly, jokingly, leaning back against his chest.

"And why is that?"

"Cuz… uh… it seemed like a funny thing to say… I dunno…"

Lawliet smirked. "You are ridiculous."

"Say that tonight!" she scoffed. "You shall change your tune!"

"Hm-hm," he chuckled softly. "You sound so confident."

"I _am_ confident, since all factors and signs point toward you being even more psyched by this than I'll be…" She tilted her head back onto his shoulder and turned to press her lips to his neck. "That said… it's only an hour and twenty minutes until eight, so the only thing left is to get Aimi to sleep in a timely manner…" Easier said than done. Aimi shared her father's problem with insomnia, which Keiko was valiantly trying to stave off until she was at least sixteen, so that her body would have a chance to grow and develop properly in the meantime.

"Good luck with that task. I'm going to try to get a bit of work done before dinner," he told her belatedly as he began to trek up the stairs. "What are you making for dinner?" he asked, then, turning around to stare at her.

"Pineapple upside-down cake," she replied, lazily ambling toward the kitchen. "I'll get you when it's ready."

"Tenshi…?" Keiko looked back up to see Lawliet's head poking out from behind the staircase wall ridiculously. He quickly made his way down to her, catching her in a passionate embrace. His lips caressed hers warmly, and she melted into his arms. After just enough of the kiss to tease her, he pulled back. "I told you 'I love you' today, didn't I…?"

"No, you haven't…" she slurred, grinning almost drunkenly.

"Mm, I love you…" With that, he retreated back up the stairs and to his office, leaving Keiko standing in the parlor with a sappy look of glowing adoration on her face. She stared after him stupidly for a few moments before recovering herself and remembering her original objective—that of making dinner. In her defense, Lawliet wasn't always that sensual during the day; he usually reserved such ardor for nights, after the kids were asleep (it was for this reason that he'd ordered their bedroom walls to be soundproofed; only those within could hear what was going on).

"L-love you, too…" she echoed weakly, belatedly, before giggling to herself and heading to the kitchen.

No, they hadn't grown up at all…

But what fun was being a boring adult, anyway…?

Keiko's buoyant mood persisted through the rest of the evening, even during dinner's preparations. It was turning out to be the best Saturday ever…

* * *

Dinner passed, and eight o'clock came and went, so the only remaining "hindrance" to Lawliet and Keiko's evening together was Aimi, if anyone had the gall or heartlessness to call her a hindrance. As she was Lawliet's little girl, he adored every second with her. After dinner, while Keiko set about to baking some cookies, Aimi followed her father up to the office, where she attempted to help him work—or more accurately, to observe carefully everything he did and ask lots of questions. He noticed her tailing him and switched his focus to a new case: diamond theft. This one involved very little blood, for he wasn't sure he wanted to expose his little girl (or his son, for that matter) to such violence yet. Was she aware of such realities? Yes. Had she ever seen pictures of dead bodies, gory murders, and blood-splattered crime scenes? No. There would be a time for disillusionment, but her innocence still seemed too precious to spoil so soon.

Aimi sat beside Lawliet, mimicking his hunched pose. "Daddy?"

"Mm, yes?"

"Why do you solve cases?"

This wasn't part of her usual onslaught of questions, not by a long shot. She was typically very precise and exact, inquiring after motives of those involved in a crime and investigation, the reasons why he suspected a certain person in a case, or how he knew to search for clues. He was always patient with her, explaining in full detail the answers to her many questions.

"Mm, I suppose it is because I love solving puzzles," he told her in his soft voice. "I have always loved riddles, and solving cases is nothing more than solving extremely complicated riddles, in execution. The difference is that the details are real, not just statistics on a math assignment."

"Why do you like solving riddles?"

"Because I like finding details and sorting them out."

"Why?"

He smiled wryly. "Because, by whatever chance or design, I was born with an exceedingly high intellect, and I wanted to use my intelligence as much as I could. I suppose it began as wanting to impress my family, but eventually, I found that I just liked to think. And what better way to use my brain than solving riddles that no one else could solve?"

"You could have become an engineer or an administrator…" she pointed out sagely. "Why a detective? You have to see people die."

"Mm, that is a strange thing," he answered softly. "I suppose making things never held much appeal for me, nor did dealing with people. I could not tell you why. You might ask your mother. She could possibly have an answer for you. Thinking about intricacies such as you seek to know is her forte."

"Okay."

Pause.

"Daddy?"

"Mm, yes?"

"I'm glad you solve cases." She abandoned her perched position to wrap her small arms about her father, still straight-faced as ever, but her gentleness and rather random display of affection conveyed her love better than any smile.

Lawliet had to smile at that. "Mm, I'm glad you approve."

* * *

The two stayed in the office for quite a while; of course, Aimi kept on asking her questions, and he even let her help by allowing her to discover a few of the easier clues and attempt to figure them out. It was nearly an hour before a soft knock sounded, and they both turned to see Keiko standing in the doorframe, a smile twisting her lips as she observed father and daughter. "Hey, Aimi, Scout's here."

Immediately, Aimi stood and gave her father a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you, Daddy," she said softly just before she left. She always thanked him for letting her watch him work. With that, she followed her mother down the stairs to the foyer, where a short young woman stood. Brown hair was shown in the dim light to have a blonde sheen to it; her green eyes quietly observed everything with little emotion. A light smattering of freckles dusted her pale nose. Her skinniness betrayed her bony frame, off which a navy soccer jersey (over a long-sleeved grey T-shirt) and ragged blue jeans hung loosely. It wasn't that she was attempting to mask her body, for she didn't seem awkward or uncomfortable with this, but rather, indifferent—thus was her way. Scout always thought indifferently about everything, rather like Near in that respect. But unlike Near, Scout had a wicked, razor-sharp sense of cynicism, and would not hesitate to cut someone down in an argument. Typically, she was fairly gentle, but when need arose…

Moreover, there was some kind of dangerous air about the woman. Keiko couldn't quite place it—but there was an aura of power about her, unseen and untamed. There was never a reason for this that anyone knew of… it just _was_. Scout had never so much as set a finger on another person, so there was no reason to think that she might lash out at anyone; nor was there any reason to think that Scout would verbally attack Aimi, for one of Scout's weaknesses was children. She adored them in all their innocence, but only when one knew the young woman could one truly see this affection, for she seemed to keep most of her emotions to herself. This was one of the explanations for her attraction to Aimi, for the two had a deep bond that seemed to stem from their similar natures (the biggest difference being Aimi's kindness and generosity, where Scout's quasi-sadism could be seen).

What's more, all these qualifications had led her to be "Watari-in-training", as it were. Watari, at seventy-eight years, was growing old, and the tasks that had once proved to be easy for him were getting tougher. Travel was more limited for him; handling a large group of genius children was almost worse. So, while he still had breath in his lungs, he and Roger were training Scout to take over for them at the orphanage—she would be in charge of arranging travel for Near and L, but would not go with either; no, her place was as "headmistress" of sorts. And while Lawliet was still L, Keiko would travel with him as intermediary. True, she'd have to quit her job as policewoman—detective chief inspector, now—but wasn't "Watari" something of a promotion? At least she'd be with Lawliet, more.

"Hello, Scout," Aimi said plainly when she reached the woman. "I take it that you are keeping me company tonight?"

Scout nodded, tucking her shoulder-length tresses behind her ear. "That's correct. Come. What would you like to do…?"

They walked off to the living room, and Keiko called after her, "Thanks, Scout!"

"There is no need to thank me, Mrs. L," she responded tonelessly, but a faint trace of amusement flickered in her green eyes. "I am glad to spend time with Aimi."

"Thank you, nonetheless. When Aimi goes to sleep, you can head back. And…" Keiko reached into her pocket and pulled out two twenty-pound notes, which Scout came back to take. "Thank you so much for coming on such short notice!"

"Not at all." Scout blinked at her for a few moments. "Do you have somewhere to be…?"

"Yes!" Keiko grinned. "We'll be upstairs—call us if there's an absolute emergency! Milk in the fridge if you want it!" With that, she practically disappeared before their eyes. "Hey, Lawliet, bedroom, ASAP!" she told him excitedly in a soft tone, and dashed into her bedroom, snatching up the package from her hiding spot in the closet and scrambling into the master bath. Taking the package, she ripped it open and pulled out a small, clear plastic tube, wherein lay the long-awaited lingerie. Thin, see-through, a light turquoise in color, and trimmed with intricate ivory lace. The ribbons that held the thin pieces of fabric into a wearable form had tiny pink, blue, and yellow lollipops and candy bits stitched into it, which she knew was enough to amuse Lawliet. The whole ensemble even came with a small garter, which was enough to amuse _her_. There was one part of Keiko's brain that sighed heavily. _Why_ had she spent such a ridiculous amount on a few scraps of transparent fabric…? But then again, the much more playful side of her argued excitedly that it was going to be worth every last penny.

With that, Keiko began to change into the skimpy outfit, taking great care not to accidentally rip the material…

Meanwhile, Lawliet perched on the bed, chewing his thumbnail. He knew Keiko was retrieving his "surprise", but that didn't mean he was being patient about it. This was the first time in almost fifteen days that he'd seen his wife, and he wanted her, in a few different ways.

Keiko finished by grabbing her silk robe, which hung in the bathroom, and tying it around herself. There was one last thing she needed to get… She opened the door quickly and ran out of the room before Lawliet could ask her what she was doing, and downstairs to the kitchen. There, Keiko grabbed the tray of cookies, now cooled, which she'd been making as Lawliet and Aimi had holed themselves up in the office. After quickly transferring about two-thirds of them from the tray to a plate (leaving the rest for Scout and Aimi), she headed back up the stairs—more slowly, this time. When she reached their bedroom door, she shrugged off the robe and quickly let herself inside.

Lawliet stared at her as she stood there against the doorframe, clad in almost nothing, and holding a plate of freshly-baked cookies in hand. However, his eyes didn't linger on the cookies (no, he kept his sense of smell focused on those), but drank in the sight of Keiko. She smiled suggestively at him, stepping carefully forward to hold the plate of cookies out to him.

An answering smile tugged at his lips as she delicately took a still-warm cookie from the plate and held it up to his lips. Obligingly, he bit into it, eyes never leaving her. "Mm, I take it this is the surprise…?" he asked, words a little slurred as he talked around the mouthful of cookie.

She nodded. "Yup yup! You like?" The expression on his face was enough to give away that much information, but she wanted to hear it from his lips.

"Very much, tenshi…" He shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth and took the plate from her, placing it on the nightstand before turning back to her. "Do you have any idea how much trouble I'm having retaining my composure at this moment…?"

Keiko tilted her head at him slightly and gave a short laugh. "Is composure really necessary in this situation…?"

"I suppose not…" He gathered her into his arms, crashing his lips onto hers, pressing his body against her so that they were touching at every parallel.

Yes, they were both in for a very enjoyable night…

_

* * *

_

The next morning…

Lawliet bit off half of a cookie that Keiko held out for him as she lay atop his stomach lazily as he half-sat, half-leaned against the headboard of the bed. "Mm, thank you," he said softly, huskily, taking the cookie from her. "I have now concluded that you are attempting to fatten me, at the rate you are feeding me these."

Keiko shook her head. "Nuh-uh, that's my mom's job. I'm just trying to send you into a diabetic coma so you can't leave anymore."

"Your logic is rather skewed," he commented lightly as he took another bite of the cookie. "Mm, I'm rather inclined to leave much more often if this is how you'll act upon my returns."

She smirked. "I'll have to remember this strategy in the future… perhaps for your birthday…"

"Mm, I like that plan."

"Ha, you would." She grinned at him softly, yawning as she began to realize how tired she was. It wasn't that she was physically exhausted; they'd had plenty of nights during which they'd been more active. No, most of the night was spent alternating between soft kisses and long conversations on all things near and sundry. "Hummm… Well, it was nice sleeping with you and all, but now, I'm going to have to sleep by myself."

Lawliet snorted at her joke, but relented as she lay down beside him and curled up, using his chest as a pillow. "Rest, tenshi," he whispered softly, curving one arm around her back as he sat up further, pulling one of the many pillows behind him to support him more comfortably. "I will still be here when you awaken."

"Mmm… night, Lawliet…"

Keiko relaxed in his arms, half-asleep already. Unfortunately, the telephone rang, and with a sigh, Lawliet looked over at the cordless phone on the nightstand. A quick glance at the caller ID told him that it was Watari calling. "Yes…?"

"S'that Wa-tan…?" Keiko mumbled.

_"Master Lawliet, turn to news channel 15…"_

With a frown—this could not mean anything good!—he picked up the remote, also on the nightstand, and switched on the small television sitting atop the dresser at the foot of the bed.

A very well-put-together brunette with soft, shoulder-length locks professionally began to report on some festival in Prague, something he didn't remotely care about. "Watari, what am I looking for, here…?"

_"It should be on in a moment…"_

As the newswoman prattled on about vague nothingness, her face suddenly became serious. Lawliet, who'd been about to turn off the TV, paused to listen…

_"Just seven years ago, the world's criminals began dying of heart attacks, carried out by the controversial figure, Kira. The detective L, who was in charge of apprehending Kira, reported on November fifth of 2004 that Kira was, in fact, captured and behind bars, but Kira's identity was never made public. Whether or not the real Kira was detained is now up for debate, as just yesterday, fifteen known criminals in London died of cardiac arrest, all within five minutes of one another. It seems like the mysterious and possibly divine savior, Kira, has returned. Details of the deaths were not disclosed by the police…"_

Lawliet's dark eyes widened as the anchorwoman carried on, and he stiffened. What in the world…? Kira had returned…?! Beside him, Keiko stirred and raised her head towards the television blearily, obviously as doubtful as he was. "Please tell me I'm dreaming…"

"I don't believe you are, tenshi…"

Watari sighed heavily. _"The police contacted me at two-thirty this morning."_ It went without saying that Watari had inferred that Lawliet and Keiko would be busy during this time, and had thus waited to inform them._ "I was told they'd be reporting this at seven, so I called… This isn't a prank. It seems that Kira has returned…"_

Lawliet paused for several seconds in effort to calm himself down. "Mm, yes. Make preparations to retrieve Light Yagami and Misa Amane from Tokyo—I would ask that you do this personally—and for Near and Mello to stay at the Wammy's House. Also, please come over as soon as possible. I shall speak further with you here."

_"I'm almost afraid to ask, Master Lawliet, but where are Yagami-san and Amane-san going to be staying…?"_

"I'll take care of that, Watari."

_"Understood."_

"Thank you. Also, please cancel my plans to go to Cairo, for the Kira case will take precedence."

_"Understood."_

With that, Lawliet hung up the phone and sighed heavily.

"I take it we're not dreaming," Keiko groaned miserably.

"Mm, perhaps this is punishment. The gods do not like to behold too-happy mortals…"

Keiko groaned again and lightly rapped him on the head. "Oh, shove it! More like 'criminals don't like to behold a too-happy L and family…'"

"Hummm, whatever force has willed that Kira return… I will find him."

Keiko made a quiet whimpering sound and shoved her face into a pillow, where she screamed her fury, making the sound effectively muffled. "You're not supposed to say that, Lawls!"

"Mm, you do understand that I must catch Kira…?"

There was a pause. She did know—all too well. That didn't mean she wanted to admit it. "Yes… Dammit…"

Lawliet nodded gravely. "My sentiments exactly…"

_

* * *

_

_Uh-oh... well, things start up rather quickly, to say the least, but hey, I warned you all. This ain't gonna be as long as _Jizen_. Hopefully it's just as good, tho!! Review and tell me what you think!!_

_You know, I watched some _Death Note _anime the other night, and I wondered why it wasn't as funny as I remembered it, then I realized that Keiko wasn't there. -.- I wanted to smack myself for that little moment of idiocy_…


	4. Rift

**_Disclaimer: _Death Note _ain't mine, so don't sue me._**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_! Aided by _**Madeline Cullen**_!_

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* * *

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**CHAPTER 4 - RIFT**

_**

* * *

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July 16, 2011 – 7:12 AM

Lawliet paced the floor of his living room as he waited Watari to arrive. His mind was running like crazy…

Keiko, who'd been completely in shock as the news was revealed to her, came slowly down the stairs. If her expression was any indication at all, she was still in shock.

"You… arranged… for _WHAT!?_"

Lawliet's eyes widened as Keiko rounded on him.

Apparently now, she was lucid enough to be furious.

Lawliet refused to back down, however. In cold defiance, he stared back at her. "I realize how disheartening this is for you, Keiko—it is for me, as well. But I think you realize that this needs to be done, as a mere precaution." It wasn't that he was taking the case concerning the new Kira that was the problem, but something entirely different: Light and Misa were being shipped over and the handcuffs were coming back out—two sets of them, this time. _That_ was the problem.

She sputtered angrily. " 'Disheartening'? _Disheartening?!_" Furiously, she threw her hands in the air and turned a few steps away. "I… I—I-I-I can't even speak to you! URGH! Look, we both know that _neither Light nor Misa _is doing _anything_. Neither of them have anything to do with this! Look at the clues: first, it's all in London. Second, there were no reports from either Mizuki or Matsuda on anything Misa might've done. Third, Light's not _that_ stupid, and Misa's not smart enough to have thought of London! She doesn't know we're here!"

Lawliet stared back at her, cold and determined. "Keiko, this is _not_, may I remind you, because I wish for it to happen. The reason that Light and Misa are being brought here is solely to confirm that they aren't doing anything in this instance. I know they have no part of this as well as you do. I would like nothing more than to keep Light Yagami as far from us as possible, for exactly the same reason you would like Misa as far from us as possible."

Keiko sighed. He was right on that point, if nothing else; she hated Misa for trying to come up with a way to kill Lawliet, so that "her Light" could survive. Keiko had been trying to, in essence, kill Light by sending him to his execution so that Lawliet could survive. The only difference was that Keiko was extremely reluctant to send Light to the gallows, hence her attempt—and success—at saving him, whereas Misa had no qualms whatsoever about killing Lawliet. And Lawliet hated Light just as much as Keiko hated Misa, if not more so, for Light _might_ have killed Keiko, and very nearly did kill her children—_his_ children. Their children.

Lawliet stoically stared at the carpet as he continued to pace. How were they going to deal with Aimi and Alex in this? Their parents would each be handcuffed to an ex-mass murderer, and he did not want them finding out about the atrocities committed in the Kira case just yet.

This brought about a conundrum.

Keiko rolled her eyes and stomped her foot on the carpet. "Lawliet, snap out of it! What the heck are you thinking?"

Whether or not this was a question of his sanity or merely an inquiry after his current brainstorm, he wasn't sure. For the first time in years (for no explainable reason, that is), L could not think properly. _How these useless emotions bog one down,_ he thought sourly, scowling minimally as he stared at the far wall, now chewing absently on his thumbnail.

_You knew this time would eventually come,_ his more blunt side told him. _This was exactly why you didn't want to get involved with Keiko in the first place. This was why you distanced yourself from the world, to keep from getting emotionally entangled in a situation._

_No, the reason I kept myself isolated was because I did not want to deal with people in all their annoying social habits and complicated lives and unending annoyances._

_Really, Mr. Noble Detective? You, being cynical? Surely not._

_Stuff it. There is some truth to both arguments. The point of the matter is that you did not want to become involved with Keiko due to your fear of putting her in danger, of becoming emotionally biased or clouded, and giving up my work. Which, at first, it was fine that Keiko became more important to me than my cases. But in this one… I don't know if I can afford that._

_Nonsense. This Kira cannot be as smart as Light Yagami._

_Really? Then why did the new Kira decide to concentrate all his killings in London? That cannot be a coincidence. He knows where I am… Or the country in which I live, at least. But why would he make that obvious? To lure me out? That doesn't seem likely…_

_It's a bit early to make reasonable assumptions or conclusions. All I know is that there have been fifteen deaths in London, and that there is a Death Note being used. But by whom? And to what point and purpose? And what if this is some prank by a shinigami? I wouldn't rule it past Ryuk to try to send me on a wild goose chase just for his own amusement…_

_No. This is not Ryuk's style. He is too selfish for that—he'd want to come be a part of the fun and have a front row seat, as it were. If he is behind this, he is not the one killing criminals. Neither is it Akira; he's too attached to Keiko to do something like this. And Rem wouldn't care enough. So if it is another shinigami, who is it? I suppose it would be a good time to call on Akira to answer that one…_

Keiko sighed heavily once again. He really had picked the right vocation as a detective. She could see from his expression that he could not help but attempt to draw what conclusions he could, or plan out his next moves, no matter where his train of thought started. Rubbing her temples wearily—she could feel a headache coming on—she sat down on the couch as Lawliet continued pacing. "You trying to wear a furrow in the carpet…?" she asked dully, leaning her head in her hands.

He ignored her comment and sighed, chewing on his thumbnail. "This isn't going to be easy…"

Keiko rolled her eyes. "Well, duh…! Just… ugh…!"

Thankfully, then, Watari knocked on the front door. Keiko sighed and stood to let him in. "Hi, Wa-tan," she said glumly. Alex, by his side, yawning at the early hour in which he'd been roused, shuffled through the door.

"Hi, Mum…"

"Hey, kiddo…"

Alex looked indignant. No "how was the party?" or "did you have fun?" Nope. She just looked up at Watari and they engaged in "grown-up" conversation. Frustrated, Alex dragged his backpack up the stairs and to his bedroom.

"Hello, my dear," Watari said solemnly, but he smiled faintly. "Cheer up. Master Lawliet will set things straight, if I know him."

His statement induced the intended smile from Keiko, and she nodded. "Yeah… he will. It's just the time between then and now that I'm worried about."

Watari nodded somberly in understanding, and turned his gaze to Lawliet across the room. "Master Lawliet, what is it that you wished to discuss with me?"

Lawliet looked up. "Mm, I need to ensure that Light-kun and Amane-san will, in fact, _come quietly_, as the saying goes. I shall call Aizawa-san, Yagami-san, Mogi-san, and Matsuda about this matter—they will act as escorts to the airport. Also, before you leave, I will ask that you take the twins to the orphanage. I will not have them staying here while their parents are handcuffed to mass murderers."

Keiko turned to face Lawliet. "Wha-a-a-a-at…?!" Apparently, she'd not remembered the part about the handcuffs… There was a pause, wherein she was very obviously exercising a ridiculous amount of self-control. "Watari, please take Aimi and Alex to the House."

Watari nodded, sensing an impending argument. "Understood." Not two minutes later, Alex was grumbling as he trudged back down the steps, Aimi following smartly behind, impassively, as though she were following military command.

Not a second after the door slammed shut, Keiko rounded on Lawliet. "We're getting handcuffed to the world's two most dangerous criminals, and you didn't think to tell me?!"

Lawliet sighed heavily. "I asked for two sets of handcuffs and for Light-kun and Amane-san to be brought over from Japan. I had assumed that you would've put those two together. Moreover, I did not hide this information from you. We both learned of this not fifteen minutes ago."

Keiko seethed. "We are a _team_! You need to ask me before you do something this drastic! But then…" She stopped and turned to him, seemingly calm, but Lawliet knew she was about to make a brutal attack. "That's right—your work is more important to you than your family, isn't it…?" With that, she turned heel and marched off to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind her, leaving Lawliet standing in the living room, completely devastated.

* * *

Not ten minutes later, Aimi and Alex were on their way to the Wammy's House across the grounds, led by Watari.

Alex frowned at this treatment. He was being _sent_. His parents always told him what was happening!! Why wasn't he informed of anything? And in such an awful manner, too! He'd just come back home, only to be greeted by his mother's cold stolidity, and startled only moments later by her shouting, and suddenly, he was being forced to move? Even though it was temporary, he still hated it!

Growling, he huffed and stared at the grass. It was simply intolerable!

And even worse, he looked over at Aimi to see her head held high, expression blank. _Look at her, that smug little brat!_ he thought sourly. _She knows what's going on…! But why would they tell her, and not me?! Gosh darn it, why is she always the favorite?! They never tell me anything, and they never give me any attention…! Why? It's just cuz she's a brain…_

Alex sighed, thrusting his hands in his pockets. He resented Aimi. She always was the golden child, the center of attention. Always in the middle of things. Always fawned over… always praised.

Always the favorite.

While he was shoved off to the side…

And even now, she knew why they were being sent away.

But he refused to ask her why! He would not give into his younger sister. She'd use it as blackmail, later! She'd taunt him… No. He'd figure everything out on his own, by George! After all, he _was_ L's son.

* * *

A knock sounded on Scout's door, and she groaned. Her digital clock told her that it was hardly eight o'clock… and yet, she was being roused… for what point and purpose? She didn't need to be anywhere until ten…

That told her that she was truly needed for something. Still grumbling, she rolled out of her bed sluggishly and wrapped herself in her dark green robe before heading to the door.

Standing there was Watari, looking similarly haggard, but he smiled anyway. "I apologize for waking you this early, Scout, but I'm leaving within an hour, and I need to fill you in on some details first."

"Leaving?" she croaked, blinking the early-morning grit from her eyes.

Watari nodded. "Come to my office and I shall explain everything. I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes, shall I?"

"Of course," she said with an answering nod. "I'll be there shortly."

* * *

It didn't take long for Scout to dress (today in baggy overalls and a loose-fitting black shirt), brush her teeth, and run a brush through her naturally stick-straight locks. In twelve minutes, she was standing in Quillish Wammy's office, awaiting his arrival. Out of habit (as though she hadn't memorized the layout and contents of the room ages ago), she scanned the place, taking in her surroundings. Her instincts demanded that she do this. After spending close to five years fighting in the streets (two of those years having led her own gang), it became natural to her to analyze various escape routes, and to come up with various ways she could play off the features of the location in a fight, and to look out for spots in which she should never be caught, lest she become trapped.

It wasn't that anyone really knew of her past. Not only was she supremely glad to be rid of it, but she'd never even hinted at it… except in her cold stolidity, her inexplicably lethal aura, her unshakeable habit of wearing long-sleeved shirts and long pants to hide her many scars, and how she always seemed to be alert and ready for something to happen… as though perpetually expecting an ambush. She doubted that anyone but Watari (and by extension, Roger and the other Wammy's guardians), L, Keiko, and maybe Near had figured it out. And even they would've had to have inferred it, with the exception of Watari—he'd known from her records, which had been otherwise kept private).

But maybe that was why she loved the kids? Even Scout herself didn't know. She'd finally come to the conclusion that her soft spot for children, in all their untarnished innocence, was due largely in part to her desire to escape her violent and gruesome past, and partially due to her strong protective side. So in spite of and because of her past?

Scout shook her head. She was remembering her life before Wammy's, something she did not want to dwell on. That was one of the few things that had the power to penetrate her emotionless façade… and the last thing she needed was an enemy exploiting that one weakness. Weaknesses, to her, meant vulnerability, which ultimately led only to death. Rule number one of the streets, never display a weakness of any kind—your life depended on it.

Watari came through the doors not a minute and a half later, greeting Scout more warmly. "Ah, good morning, Scout. Sit down."

"No, thank you, Mr. Wammy, sir," she returned politely. Being seated with her back to the door could slow her down in the event that an enemy appeared… not that an enemy in Wammy's House was likely. It was merely habit. Now, if her chair had been _facing_ the door, she might have reconsidered, but as it was…

"As you like," Watari returned genially. If there was one thing he'd learned in raising a house of young geniuses, it was to respect their various oddities, and even to cater to them, in some cases. Just look at Mello, Near, and L, with their chocolates, toys, and sugar, respectively… And as Scout's strange habits weren't affecting anyone else, he allowed her to exercise her right to stand and remain on alert. "I presume you haven't heard the news just yet, then. Kira has returned, and I am to travel to Japan to bring back the perpetrators of the last Kira murders so that L can monitor them. I need you to take over the House for a few days—three at most—until I return. Further instructions from Roger or myself will be issued as needed." Scout nodded in acknowledgement. "There is a list of tasks on the desk—" he gestured to a clipboard stuffed with papers, "—and the required materials are either in their respective spots or in the clipboard." Scout had memorized Watari's organizational system a year ago and knew where everything would be. If something unexpected arose, well, there were always cell phones.

"Understood, Mr. Wammy, sir." She lowered her head in submission, just enough to convey respect, acknowledgement, and loyalty. Another vestige of her gang life: respect the hierarchy and remain loyal to those in charge, unless you have a problem with the authority AND have an opening to implement a change of some kind. But Scout had no problem with Watari—quite the contrary. She was and would always remain loyal to Watari for having brought her to the Wammy's House six years ago, and for encouraging her to follow her own pursuits. "I shall do my best."

"Thank you, Scout." Watari smiled gently at her. "There is one other thing… you will recall that I have toyed with the idea of retirement in the future, and if these next few days go well, I shall let you run the orphanage for a trial period, and if _that_ goes well—and I have no reason to suspect otherwise—I will retire at the end of this year. You shall become the headmistress of the Wammy's House."

Scout nodded, seemingly impassively, but Watari saw in her eyes the flicker of anticipation. This was something she'd been wanting for quite a few months, and with her administrative and leadership skills, not to mention her love of children, she would be an excellent candidate for Watari's replacement at the orphanage. "I suppose we'll discuss any further details later," she said then. "I see. Safe travels."

"Thank you." Watari rose from his seat behind the desk and collected a few papers, crossing the small office to collect his briefcase, and slipped these within. "Well… I leave in forty minutes, so… good luck."

"Thank you, sir."

"And one last thing… I have notified Near and Roger of the situation. They should arrive sometime tonight. Please prepare adequate space for Near to stay."

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she bowed her head stiffly. The little pajama-wearing brat and his toy collection?! The indignation of it!! "Understood, sir. I'll get to that immediately."

* * *

"Keiko, please come out, tenshi…"

A loud knocking sounded on the bathroom door, but Keiko refused to answer. She sat on the floor, knees bent to her chest as she leaned back against the bathtub. "I freaking came in here for a reason, okay? Can't you figure out that I don't wanna talk to you?! Geez, L…"

There was a pause. "Keiko…" Outside, L slumped over further. _Keiko, I know that. But I can't really call you "ridiculous", can I…? That doesn't help things. Moreover, I can understand why you don't wish to speak to me…_

"I suppose the best thing I can do is to simply wait for you to come out," he murmured softly, and shuffled away, hands in his pockets. He'd known that the prospect of Light and Misa being in such close proximity to them was going to be a bitter pill for Keiko to swallow, but even so, he hated being at odds with his wife—especially to the point where she would've been provoked to say such a thing! That was completely uncalled-for. But Lawliet knew she just needed some time to cool down. She'd come out, eventually, and apologize, and he'd be there to console her, forgive her, and assure her that she (and the kids) would always remain the most important part of his life.

At least, _this_ time, she wasn't actually leaving him…

Inside the bathroom, Keiko pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, once she was sure that Lawliet was gone, and called a familiar friend.

"Hey, Mello…?"

_"Hiya, Gorgeous!"_ came the cheery voice on the other end.

"Oh, hey, Matt," she said dully, a tiny smile twisting her lips, nonetheless.

_"Aw, aren'tcha happy to hear my voice?"_

"Sadly, no. But if it makes you feel better, I wouldn't have been happy to talk to Mello, either."

He paused. _"Well, that's a bit better… what's going on?"_

"Matt… can I talk to Mello?"

_"Yeah, sure."_

A few seconds passed, and the sounds of the phone being passed from the one young man to the other could be heard through the receiver. _"Shoot."_

Keiko rolled her eyes. "Hello to you, too, Mello."

_"Look, Keiks, it sounds like you're in a rush, so just cut the small talk."_

"Fine by me. Kira's back."

A pause, then a muffled exclamation. Matt's distant laughter sounded, and Keiko could imagine Mello having dropped his chocolate bar in surprise. _"What…?"_

"We just found out this morning on the news," she explained quickly and quietly, so that Lawliet couldn't hear, in the event that he _was_ at the door. "Fifteen criminals killed in London… I need you and Matt to do whatever you can to find out what's going on. L doesn't know you're being contacted, either…"

_"I see… so you want to protect _him_ by sending _us_ out to do the dirty work…?"_

Keiko growled to herself. "No! Geez… I want this case to be solved as quickly as possible, cuz L's having Light and Misa shipped over to our own house! I hate Misa!"

_"Can't fault you for that one…"_

"See what I mean?"

_"Yeah… Okay. We'll see what we can dig up."_

"Call me when you get something, okay? No…" Keiko thought quickly. "No. Text me when you come up with something."

_"Sure."_

"And Mello…? Stay safe. Matt, too."

_"Yeah, whatever."_

Keiko suppressed the urge to argue with him about that, wondering idly if Lawliet felt like this sometimes. Mello typically shrugged off any kind of affection he received from others, almost as though he refused to believe he was loved. "Okay. Well… see you guys later."

_"Later."_

_"BYE, GORGEOUS!!"_

She snapped her phone shut and curled up in a ball on her side. "Now… I wait."

_

* * *

_

Well, wasn't that a nice veritable mess? Don't worry about Keiko and L, tho. As Light said, they're too close for conceivable ethic, and you'll see that again in the next chapter or so. :) Review, s'il vous plait!

Also, Matt and Mello and Near will all be in the next chapter, so... something to look forward to. :)


	5. Near and Far

**_Disclaimer: Watashi wa no onu _Desu Noto_. And I know that's not even remotely coherent._**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_, helped by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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CHAPTER 5 - NEAR AND FAR

* * *

Mello snapped his phone shut and turned to Matt, who silently leaned forward as his thumbs controlled some digital character on his PSP2. (1) A cigarette hung from his mouth, the smoke drifting slowly towards the ceiling. "So…" he muttered, eyes never leaving his game. "What the plan?"

Mello snorted with amusement as he surveyed his dark green-haired friend, recalling the day years ago when they'd first adopted the ridiculous fashions they still wore today. They'd been in pursuit of some flowers for L and Keiko's wedding, but as they'd been only teens, Mello had suggested they obtain some more _mature_ clothing…

And they'd ended up in leather, stripes, and fur.

Funny how things like that turn out.

But one of the only real things that had changed was the color of Matt's hair. Then again, he liked variety. He dyed his hair every couple of weeks, just to keep things interesting.

Mello sighed and rubbed his temples wearily. "Kira's back."

Matt nearly dropped his game, he was so shocked. Behind his yellow goggles, his eyes widened. "Wha…?! You're coddin' me, mate!"

The blond shook his head slowly. "No. Keiks wants us t' go underground, dig up what we can."

"Hmmm…" Matt thought about this for a few moments. "You reckon our American bruvs can point us to the Syndicate?"

Mello grunted. The Syndicate was, in essence, the British mafia—the mafia based in London, anyway. They never referred to themselves as anything less than classy, and so they were… at least, more so than the American mafia, western faction. Rod Ross was little more than a very smart brute with no sense of style. _Ha, just look at his damn couch,_ Mello thought with a smirk. _Zebra-striped? Honestly…_

"Maybe… let's see what we can do."

* * *

A knock sounded on Quillish Wammy's office door. Scout looked up from the desk and the paperwork she'd been doing and called softly, "Come in."

A sleek head of black hair became visible, followed by the plump body of a young child who had yet to lose most of its baby fat. Her enormous, borderline creepy black eyes stared blankly at the young woman behind the desk, full of curiosity. "Hello, Scout," she whispered in a silk-soft voice.

Scout nodded. "Hello, Aimi." She had no need to prompt the child with a question, such as "What brings you here?" No, Aimi would speak for herself.

"Why did Daddy and Mummy send me here?" she asked simply.

Scout raised a pale eyebrow. "Why do you think you were sent here?"

Aimi pulled herself up into the fancy leather chair that faced the desk. "I remember the telephone ringing this morning at seven o'clock, and only a few minutes later, I was brought over with Mr. Wammy. Only a few minutes ago, most of my clothes were sent over, as well. I can only assume that we're to stay here indefinitely."

Scout folded her hands together diplomatically and met the six-year-old's gaze. "I'm sure you are aware of Kira?"

Aimi nodded. "Yes. I learned about him in criminology class."

It went without saying, then, that she was aware of her father's (and by extension, her mother's) involvement in the Kira case, seven years ago. "There is little point in hiding it from you. It was reported that between two and four this morning, fifteen criminals on death row were killed by Kira's hand."

"This Kira cannot be the same one," Aimi stated plainly, confidently. "Daddy wouldn't allow such a terrible killer to escape capital punishment."

Scout shook her head in cool concurrence. "Of course not. It must be a new Kira." Neither Lawliet nor Keiko had told anyone that they'd let Light Yagami and Misa Amane go…

"Presumably Daddy does not want Alex or me to be involved in a new Kira investigation," Aimi concluded. "I suppose he wants to protect us."

"Many things can happen during such a difficult case," Scout murmured. "It would not be surprising if that was their motive."

Aimi nodded. "I see. Thank you, Scout." She demurely slipped off the too-tall chair and slowly walked toward the door.

As she headed upstairs to "her" room, she met her brother in the hall. The instant he set eyes on her, he scowled. "Alexander," she said politely, "do you wish to know why we are here?"

He frowned. Was she _teasing_ him?! "Not from _you_, I don't!" he snapped back rebelliously, crossing his arms. "Besides, I already know."

Aimi blinked emotionlessly. Who was he kidding? Of course he didn't know. He couldn't have known. Why else would he look so offended in the first place? He obviously thought she'd figured it out on her own. Well, who was she to inform her brother that she wasn't quite as clever (or rather, omniscient) as he thought?

Alex thrust his tongue through his lips, making a face at his twin sister, and he angrily continued to the stairs. _Bollocks, how'd she find out?! _

_Mum and Dad must've told her._

_But WHY?!_

But instead of just keeping this bottled up, Alex was going to discuss the situation with his friends, Ferdy and Sampson. Aliases, of course—he and Aimi were the only ones who didn't have them.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. The whole House knew of them as Aimi and Alex Lawrence.

His friends, as it turned out, were engaged in a game of poker in one of the common rooms. Wammy's had no less than five common rooms for the twenty-three children taking up residence there. "H'lo," he said with a sigh, plopping down beside the two of them.

Ferdy, a twiggy looking boy of eight years with dark hair curling down into his gray eyes and wire-rimmed spectacles, grunted. "Hm."

Sampson nodded. "Hey, mate." He seemed the polar opposite of Ferdy: his seven years' height was above the average by at least a full head; his sandy brown hair was close-cropped, but stood on end, giving him the appearance of a scrub brush. Green eyes peered at only his cards, being fully focused on the game.

"You got a face like a dropped pie," Ferdy murmured softly, discarding one dog-eared playing card and taking a new one.

"Ah, it's probably nothing," Alex admitted. "The parents sent me over, and they won't tell me why."

"Have you asked them why?" Sampson asked flatly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Hell, no!" Alex exclaimed. "They _sent_ me, and Mum looked fit to play merry hell when I left… Not to mention that the Stoic knows. She knows everything, the little brat."

"You've known for ages she's the favorite around the house," Ferdy said calmly, blinking in his direction. "Probably thought you wouldn't care."

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, but Alex's frown deepened. "I _don't_ care. Why should I? _They_ don't care…"

"So join us, mate," Sampson said cheerily as he laid down his cards, a pair of queens, a pair of sevens, and a two. "We'll cheer y'up!"

Ferdy nodded. "S'right. Forget about them; they're decrepit. Waiting to kick the bucket any time. Oh, hell, you beat me, Sam."

"Course."

Alex gave a tiny smile. At least he had good friends who cared.

But a corner of his mind protested. _Alex, wait! You know your parents love you—of course they care! And you care, too._

_But what if they don't care as MUCH…? Shouldn't I just try and let them go so's I don't get hurt any more than I am now?_

_Makes sense… well, ask them later. Just forget about them right now. Mum's probably screaming bloody murder at Dad right now; there'll be no speaking to her for at least five hours…_

_

* * *

_

Eight o'clock that evening…

The telephone rang loudly in Watari's office, but Scout was not surprised. Sudden noises had, in the past, been far more common to her; she was not easily scared or startled by them. She picked up the phone mid-ring. "Yes?"

_"Good evening, Scout,"_ came a soft tenor in the receiver, and Scout recognized the voice as belonging to Near, the white-haired genius boy who'd taken over the role of Deneuve, and was currently L's number-one choice for successor. _"We shall be arriving in approximately seven minutes. Are the gates unlocked?"_

"They won't be for another five minutes," came the frosty response. Near always thought he was better than everyone… little snot that he was. Scout didn't particularly like him, though she _had_ deemed him worthy of her respect, due to his cool head and impressive intellect. Why he assumed she would be churlish enough to leave the gates to the Wammy's House _un_locked was beyond her. But then, he'd always underestimated her. Were it not for the fact that she was vying for position as Watari's replacement (which meant that she'd probably eventually have to work with Near on a daily basis), she would've lashed out with some sarcastic, biting barb, such as _If you paid attention to those under you, you'd know that I'm smart enough to actually perform basic math, to say nothing of the simple task of keeping locked the gates to the haven for L and his successors_.

_"Very good. I'll see you soon, then."_

Near terminated the call at that, leaving Scout with a distinctly ruffled feeling. She despised Near for his arrogance… but it was hard to reconcile such a dislike when a) he demanded such respect by just being there, and b) she'd be forced to work with him for probably years to come. In all honesty, she was confused as to how she felt about the young man. They had much in common… and yet, he was so infuriating!

Scout breathed a soft sigh and allowed herself a brief moment of weakness, wherein she slumped over onto her desk, burying her face in the crook of her arm. She'd have to deal with the stupid boy soon enough… but for the next few minutes, she'd just stay there, stewing.

In the back of the plain black sedan, a white-haired young man of nineteen years drew one knee up to chest height, letting the other foot rest on the floor of the vehicle as he snapped his mobile phone shut. "She sounds unhappy," he observed calmly, probably one of maybe five people in the world who could really tell what Scout Edwards felt at a given time. A good deal of it had to do with the fact that they were always lumped together, he and Scout. They were both so stoic, but so intelligent… and they were both in line to take over for different persons associated with Wammy's.

But there was one thing that puzzled Near: Scout's inexplicable vehemence toward him. Ever since she'd arrived at the orphanage six years ago, she'd been especially cold towards him… and he had no idea why. Well, he was grateful that she didn't hate him… Her hatred for Mello and Matt was apparent, and each time one angered the other, sparks were sure to fly. But the fact remained that she disliked Near.

And having no social life at all, nor any remote desire to have one, Near could not for the life of him figure out a reason for this. He'd done nothing to anger her, nor to annoy her, that he knew of. Perhaps his return to the orphanage would be a good opportunity to discover whatever it was that fueled her disdain and even make amends. After all, they were to be working together for quite possibly years to come—it was stupid for them to be at each other's throats.

In the front seat, Roger sighed. "Near, I should tell you that you will be working with Scout quite a bit on this case. Watari has told me that he will be needing my help in running the House, and that Scout is to temporarily take over my role for a few days—maybe weeks, depending on how long this case takes to solve…"

Near stiffened uneasily. Scout, _tending_ to him?! No wonder she was mad… she would see such a position as demotion, a sexist move that she was to play _maid_ to a _toddler_. Suddenly, arrival at the Wammy's House seemed a little less welcoming…

* * *

_Ten-thirty that night…_

Keiko lay on the floor of the bathroom. It had been over sixteen hours. Sixteen hours since she'd shut herself in the bathroom…

And she'd barely moved. Well, she _had_ slept most of that time, but now that she'd awoken, she was clouded with despondency. Part of her felt bad for being so mean to the very undeserving Lawliet… she'd just been angry at the time.

And she'd let her mouth run away with her.

Again.

She sighed heavily. Why did he even bother putting up with her? At times, Keiko wondered if she was really worth the trouble. Granted, Lawliet's every move pointed to the contrary, but her doubtful self had to wonder. She knew she owed her husband a huge apology. Her words had been out-of-line, completely unprovoked. If she was going to argue or insult him, it should've been something related to the present disagreement concerning the Kira case, instead of quoting what was probably the worst thing she'd ever accused him of doing. She just HAD to let her feelings run away before her logic had a chance to catch up…

So she would have to remain a prisoner of her own bathroom for at least a few more hours, carrying out her sentence of self-imposed purgatory.

But there were other reasons for remaining alone… Matt and Mello. She wanted to wait for them to contact her; if Lawliet found out that she'd asked them to go underground, he'd probably be upset, even if he didn't show it. He'd said that he wanted them at the orphanage, after all…

Her mobile phone buzzed as it vibrated, signaling an incoming call. So soon?! But a quick look at the caller ID told her that it was most certainly not Mello…

It was the hospital.

Great.

Keiko recalled rather reluctantly the symptoms of inexplicable mild nausea she'd been experiencing lately, for over two weeks straight, no less. But the hospital hadn't been able to diagnose her at the time, finding nothing within the time she'd been there (her lunch hour last Thursday). Instead, they'd told her that they'd perform some tests and get back to her if they found anything. She opened her mobile and answered it rather tentatively. "Yes?"

_"Hello, is a Mrs. Keiko Lawrence there?"_

"Speaking."

_"Wonderful. My name is Jean Beckman, I'm a nurse for (SOMETHING OR OTHER) Hospital in London. In regards to your appointment last week, we have the results of your tests. It seems you're pregnant again. Congratulations."_

Keiko lay there numbly at the unexpected revelation. "Oh… I see."

_"Is everything all right, Mrs. Lawrence?"_

"Yes, yes…"

_"I understand, it's probably rather shocking!"_

"Yes, it is. Thank you very much for calling." Keiko clicked the button to terminate the call, her brain a whirlwind of emotion. Shock, horror, glee, giddiness, frustration, exasperation, joy, confusion… Well, that meant that she couldn't spend the next day or so in the bathroom, but it also meant that she should tell Lawliet… he _was_ the father, he did have the right to know. Besides, there wouldn't be much chance to tell him anything remotely private once Misa and Light arrived.

Slowly, she stood. _Must… have… food…_ she thought sluggishly. _Can't end up like last time…_

* * *

(1—Gotta love 2011. You can make up whatever the heck you like from the 2008 perspective!!)


	6. Déjà Vu

**_Disclaimer: I don't own _Death Note.**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_, helped by _**Madeline Cullen**_._

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CHAPTER 6 - DÉJÀ VU

* * *

Scout sighed. Near had just discussed his role in the new Kira case with L, who had explained that he was to be in charge of finishing his current cases (a job at which Near had been tempted to protest, but he'd refrained). Once these were completed, he would be in charge of gathering and organizing incoming data on the most recently killed victims. Near took his role with a stoic nod and had retreated to the orphanage to begin his work.

But where did she come in? Scout was grumbling because she had been called from her bed so early, first off (six in the morning, to be exact), and secondly, because Near had wanted her to fetch him _breakfast_.

_Break_.

_Fast_.

The little snot had knocked on her door at six in the damn morning because he was hungry.

She was not happy. Knowing that her early-morning grouchiness would spur her to make quite a few snappy remarks at him (she was about two seconds from telling him to get his food by himself; he was a genius and knew how to make a bowl of cereal, if nothing else), Scout had made every effort to keep her mouth shut, but even the time it took to gather breakfast was not enough to cool her down. She placed the tray of food beside the white-haired young man in his room, and promptly left.

She took up residence in the library, curling up on the velvet-padded window seat, staring out the window to the gloomy (and rather dark) countryside—staring from the corner of her eye, that is, so as to keep the door in her peripheral vision. Just in case.

"Oh, good morning, Miss Edwards," came a familiar voice.

She already knew who it was by listening. Scout turned fully to see Roger Ruvie standing there, the Wammy's House second-in-command and Near's intermediary. "Hello," she mumbled.

"I must apologize, Miss Edwards," Roger said a little timidly as he approached her. "I did not expect Quillish to appoint you as Near's… helper."

"You mean _babysitter_," she retorted coolly. "I didn't sign up to play maid to a pampered twenty-year-old prodigy who thinks he's king of the world; I applied to help a couple dozen kids make their way in this hell that's Earth." With a moody expression, her nostrils flared out momentarily, and she fought against the urge to curl into a defenseless little ball. That would be her sleepiness and current grouchiness getting the better of her… and she'd display her weakness. That was unacceptable.

Roger sighed softly and sat (or rather, propped himself against) the window seat beside Scout. He looked around the room and out into the hallway, making sure that no one could hear them—assuming he spoke softly enough, which he did. "Shay Barlow…"

"That name means nothing to me, Roger."

He noticed that she did not meet his gaze, and immediately backpedaled. Had he continued to crack away at her, he might have succeeded at making her feel a little better, perhaps with the aid of some hot chocolate and a further chat… but Roger wasn't exactly great with kids. What's more, despite Scout's nineteen—almost twenty—years, he'd watched her grow up, and still viewed her as a child, in many ways. Like where communication was concerned. "Apologies, Miss Edwards." Roger fidgeted for a moment in awkwardness, but then nodded. "Cheer up. Now that L knows what method Kira uses to kill… and with Near and Mello… and Keiko, I suppose… he should be able to solve this case very quickly. You won't be stuck in this position for long."

Scout raised her cold, blank gaze and gave a single nod. "I'm sure. Thank you, Roger." With that, she rose with all dignity and quitted the room. "I must look after Near."

When she arrived at Near's room, she felt a little more like herself—like the mask she'd really become over the past six years. It was sad, really. Scout recalled, for a brief moment, her earlier years, before her father had left her family—left her mother to raise two kids by herself… Her life, the life of Shay Barlow, had been much happier. While they'd not been remotely rich, they'd managed to scrape together a meager existence in Queens, New York… and most importantly, they'd been happy. Her father played with her, making and flying tiny foam airplanes that came in thin packages (some assembly required)… play-wrestling on the floor of their apartment, only to collapse in a giggling heap after a few short minutes when her father let her win… listening to her mother read picture books from the library as her father tucked her in and sometimes made faces behind her mother's back, just to make her grin…

_Stop it,_ Scout ordered herself. _Do not focus on the past. It has no bearing in the here-and-now. It means nothing. _

_Show no weakness._

_Respect your authorities._

_Watch and wait._

Scout stopped for a moment. Those were her three basic rules… but she had to wonder. _Wait for what? What am I waiting for? I have a comfortable position basically secured—a position I want and am quite happy with. I have a good life, now. What am I waiting for…?_

But the other side of her brain scoffed at her. _Are you truly going to just give up? The Scout I know is a fighter. She keeps on moving up the ladder, both to challenge herself and to show others that she can survive without help. The Scout I know doesn't put down roots. Uprooting will inevitably occur. You know it._

She shook her head and realized that she was stopped in front of Near's room. His door was closed, and she sighed. She should probably see if he needed anything. Raising her fist to knock, she blinked in mild surprise when the door opened first.

Near's own dark eyes, faintly blue around the edges—rather like L's in that they appeared completely black at first glance—stared at her, similarly taken off-guard. Quickly, they both composed themselves, and Near surveyed Scout for a moment, prompting her to speak.

"I came to see if you needed anything," she said flatly.

"I see. My room is rather chilly," he stated plainly.

Scout gave a single nod of acknowledgement. "I will see what I can do. In the meantime, you might get yourself a blanket. There are ingredients for hot chocolate in the kitchen. Anything else?" She wouldn't get him such minor trifles! He didn't know the cold, the haughty little snot! He hadn't been forced to live in an apartment without heat for three months, hadn't had to live on the streets in the dead of winter, with only the clothes on his back and whatever else he could scrounge together…! And she, Scout Edwards, was NOT a maid! She would not abase herself for this arrogant little softie!

"Oh," said Near, a little stunned that he was not to be waited on. "I suppose you have your own devices to attend to," he added in his quiet voice.

"Yes, I do," Scout told him tonelessly, but a glint of imperiousness shone in her clear green-blue eyes. "If you need any help _with your work_, I shall be in Mr. Wammy's office." With that, she left.

Near stood there numbly for a moment. Scout… had just… wait, what?! He almost couldn't believe it. It wasn't as though it came as a huge surprise to him—Scout had always been rather cold and somehow hard-headed—but it was just so _odd_ that she'd actually done it… She knew that in order to work properly, most of the geniuses there had to be a little pampered… and he, Near, the first candidate to be the next L, the next version of justice incarnate, was working to save lives. He, of all the orphans, should be catered to! How dare she ignore him! The very arrogance…

Then again, he wasn't really helping things by just standing there blaming her… most likely, she was merely disgruntled over having to wait on him. It would pass.

He frowned for a moment, but decided that he needed to return to work… and maybe Scout had a point. She hadn't been at Wammy's as long as many of the others had, and she'd come from a very rough place, where survival was all that counted. Show one weakness and you would be preyed upon quicker than the blink of an eye. It wouldn't kill him to go fetch a blanket himself. And besides, it was too cold to just sit there. He wanted a blanket. Those couldn't be too hard to find. And hot chocolate _did_ sound rather good… but perhaps he'd ask Roger or Mrs. Macgregor, the head cook, to make him some…

But as soon as Scout cooled down, he'd be having another chat with her… That was certain.

* * *

Keiko awoke feeling warm and strangely secure, well-rested and gloriously sluggish. For a few moments, she just lay there comfortably… when she remembered what had happened just before bed last night.

She had received a phone call about her new pregnancy, and had eaten a ham sandwich just before going to bed, all without telling Lawliet anything, because she was still a little miffed that he'd planned for the two ex-Kiras to come flying halfway around the world and be chained to herself and Lawliet.

As she grew more sentient, she realized something else: the fact that she felt so well-rested meant she'd gotten quite probably too much sleep, in which case, she was probably late for work. Why hadn't her alarm gone off?!

Keiko made to roll over and out of bed, but was trapped by two familiar arms holding her back. Well, it explained why she was so warm… "Lawliet, let me go," she slurred desperately, weakly struggling.

"No, tenshi. You needed the extra sleep, so you called in sick." Keiko scowled, realizing he'd created a voice synthesizer to mimic _her_ voice, so "she" could call herself in. Damn his genius. "And what's more, I am very curious. Who called you last night?"

Keiko froze. How did he know?!

Then again, what did it matter? She _had_ resolved to tell him, after all. After a few moments of inner debating, she sighed and fell limp in his grasp. "Er… well… first off, I have to apologize for being such a jerk yesterday." She turned over to face him, looking him in the eye. "I shouldn't have said… what I did. You don't deserve that. I was just angry…" Silently, she added that it was quite probably her hormones which had prompted her to respond with such unnecessary vehemence.

Lawliet blinked in acknowledgement. "Mm, I understand why you were upset."

"But if I was going to fight fairly," she retorted, "I should've come up with something relating to the argument, and not something completely off-the-wall."

He gave the tiniest nod. "Surely you know you're already forgiven."

Keiko gave a soft smile in response, and snuggled close, tucking her head under his chin. "Mmm… you're too nice to me."

Silence overtook the pair of them for several moments, until Lawliet pressed his lips gently to the top of her head. "Hm, you still haven't told me about the call you received last evening."

Keiko deflated. "Oh. Right." There was little point in lying; what did she really have to hide? She just didn't want to tell him… Besides, he would gloat and say that they "made good children" and that "one more would be a welcome addition". Keiko sighed and braced herself. "You're going to get a terrible sense of déjà vu, here," she said softly, "but… that was the hospital. I'm pregnant." Lawliet said nothing, and Keiko cringed inwardly. At his continued silence, she elaborated. "I was feeling nauseous for most of the time you were gone, so a few days ago, I went to the hospital on my lunch break, only they couldn't actually find anything… so they said they'd run some tests… and, well…"

When Keiko finally looked up to see his expression, unable to bear the silence any longer, she saw a stunned smile on his face. "Er, at least you're happy," she muttered.

"Mm, of course, tenshi!" he said happily, suddenly coming back down to earth. He squeezed her gently, and maneuvered her so that he could kiss her more easily. "We make good children. Another would be a welcome addition to our family."

Keiko rolled her eyes. "That's what I thought." But a wry smile tugged at her lips. "Guess you got your wish." Briefly, Keiko pondered how strange it was for them to feel little to no malice against the other after such she'd hurt him so badly, but she knew immediately what Lawliet would say in response to that: _What is the point in remaining estranged? What's more, how could I be angry when you present me with such wonderful news?_

A grinning Lawliet combed his fingers through Keiko's dark hair, holding her closer as he hummed to himself, eyes closed. That made her smile; he never hummed, at least, not any real tune. And yet, he seemed to be doing just that. Not that it was a song she recognized. Perhaps it was something from his past? Keiko didn't ask, however. To interrupt such a rare (and strangely, somehow ethereally _beautiful_) happenstance would be a grave sin. So she just lay there in his arms, listening as he continued to hum his lilting, haunting melody.

After maybe half a minute, he trailed off, and they lay there in silence for a while. Keiko, hesitant to break the spell that had settled upon them, but eaten up with curiosity and the need to say something, asked softly, "What was that?"

Lawliet was quiet for a few moments. "That was a song my mother used to sing to me…"

"It's beautiful," she said softly, entranced. No words of empathy or solace were needed. Keiko understood the comfort a childhood memory could bring, but also the pain that would be dredged up by thoughts of his past. Unsure of how he would next act—wistful, joyful, or sorrowful—she simply waited for him to say or do something next. And within moments, he'd resumed toying with her hair. Silence reigned for several minutes, and Keiko could feel herself almost falling back asleep, both lulled and secured by Lawliet's presence. She pressed her nose to his chest, smelling his familiar scent. Paper, cake, and soap.

But then, another thought occurred to her, that not every morning could really be like this: soon, Light and Misa would be there, and she and Lawliet would be rather distant for a while. At this, the question that came to mind was _when_ their "guests" would be arriving. How much time did they have, anyway? After all, she wanted to make the most of what little time they had together.

"Sorry to change the subject," she began slowly, "but when is Wa-tan going to be back?"

"He called me last night to tell me that he'd arrived in Shanghai," Lawliet responded easily. "I would estimate that he shall return in less than a full day."

"Humm." Keiko sighed. "Well, I suppose this poses something of a conundrum."

"How so?"

"I can't go to work chained to Misa, and since I'm pregnant, I'll have to go on maternity leave in a few months, anyway… and if Wa-tan is going to retire at the end of this year, then what's really the point in going back to work?" She exhaled heavily. "And I just got promoted…"

Lawliet reached his fingers up to toy with Keiko's dark hair. "If quitting your job is disagreeable to you—"

"It sucks, yes, but I'd like being your intermediary more. Just… I don't want to quit…" She gave a bitter smile. "Don't get me wrong, though—I want to do this. But I'm gonna miss being an inspector. Again."

Lawliet tilted his head at this, putting one finger at his lips. "Yes… I am getting a very strong sense of déjà vu…"

"I blame it on Kira."

"You should be happy that you're immune to the Death Note," he murmured quietly. That means you're completely safe." He planted a brief kiss on her jaw.

Keiko sardonically wondered if he didn't have some built-in mechanism that told him when a Death Note was present somewhere in the world. Lawliet asked what was on her mind when she remained silent for a few moments longer than expected, and she sighed. "I could swear that you've got some kind of Kira radar that tells you when to knock me up."

He chuckled lightly at that. "Mm, your ridiculous theories again."

"Come on, the timing _is_ ironic…"

"I would argue that the timing of this is impeccable."

"Ironic."

"If that is what you wish to think," he replied easily. "However, the fact remains that I am right."

Keiko playfully shoved him away, smiling in a half-resigned, half-helpless manner. "Pants! Pants, I tell you!" (1)

Lawliet rolled to the other side of the bed, exaggerating the strength of Keiko's push, and sat up in his typical manner, hands capping his knees. "Mm, you wish to _remove_ your pants?"

Keiko smacked her forehead. "Do you ever calm down…?"

A tiny smile peeked at his lips, mirth dancing in his wide eyes. "You should well know that if after almost seven years of marriage, I have yet to 'calm down,' I probably won't for several more years."

She gave a sigh, which was followed up by an expansive yawn. "How about tonight…? I'm still half-asleep…" To further illustrate her point, she flopped over onto her pillows. "Well… since it was your idea, Mr. I'm-So-Smart, you can type up my resignation letter while I make sure everything is in decent order for Light and Misa."

Lawliet nodded. "I suppose that's fair. Well…" He reached his hands out to grasp hers, pulling her across the mattress and helping her to her feet, then bringing her close for a brief kiss. "You should have some breakfast. The baby needs proper nourishment."

Keiko nodded. "Right."

The day passed—Keiko's letter of resignation was written; the house was cleaned (which took maybe two total hours, as the house was typically kept in at least decent shape); and so, Keiko and Lawliet settled down to watch a movie and have some time alone. After all, they'd have virtually no time to be intimate (whether conversationally or physically) for Lord only knew how long.

After watching _Clue_ (with all three endings), they went their separate ways: Lawliet to his computer, and Keiko to the kitchen to make lunch. It was then that the former discovered that there had been another six murders since the previous night. He began to research the victims, but no common link really presented itself…

And so, they waited. Something had to come up soon.

At least, that's what they both hoped. Keiko didn't know how long she would last, handcuffed to Misa…

* * *

(1—"Pants" is a British colloquialism with a very slightly derogatory connotation. If something is "pants", it is ridiculous or nonsense.)

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Ugh... I'm totally zonked. Finals week, man... you don't even want to know the horrors I've just survived...


	7. Underground

_Happy Birthday, _**kuraikami**_!! Hope your day is totally awesometastical!!_

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_Disclaimer: I doesn't own der_ Death Note.

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; helped by _**Madeline Cullen**_._

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CHAPTER 7 - UNDERGROUND

* * *

Matt took a deep puff on his cigarette as he stared at the screen of his laptop computer. "Hey, Mel, come look at this…"

Mello grunted from the grungy cot he'd been sleeping on across the room. While Rod Ross may have lived in comfort, well, nomads like Matt and Mello didn't really have that option. They were lucky to even get a cot. Half the guys had to sleep on the sofa… "What?" he grumbled. "This better be important…"

"Oh, it is," Matt assured him, turning to laugh at his friend. Mello lay there on the flimsy mattress, head cradled in the crook of one arm, clutching his jacket up close like a blanket—lining-side toward his face, of course.

Mello, growling at Matt to "stuff it," rolled off the cot and stumbled over to the computer to see what was going on. "Huh…? What's this…?"

"Just take a peek at the stats, there. What pops out at you?"

A few seconds passed, wherein Mello attempted to recapture his coherence to better understand what was being presented to him. Finally, he realized it, and gave a rough grunt of laughter. "Huh… well, it might be a touch early, but it's definitely worth looking into…"

Matt nodded. "Oh, yeah… Am I good, or am I good?"

Mello rolled his eyes and shoved the green-haired young man, who fell to the floor, still laughing at his friend's grouchiness. "Yeah, yeah… stuff it. We're heading back to London tomorrow, so pack up."

Matt took another drag on the cigarette and chuckled sardonically. "Pack up _what_?"

"Just make sure you're ready…" Moodily, he flopped back down on the cot, only to have it collapse beneath the sudden weight. Mello yelped, looking like a scared cat as he crouched on the fallen mattress, eyes wide from the shock.

Matt, however, plainly thought it was hilarious. "Ah, hahahaha! Y'look like you been happy slapped!" (1)

But Mello just scowled at his friend and rolled over so that he faced the wall, scrunching up his leather jacket like a pillow and simultaneously lifting his arm so that his middle finger stood prominently upward, plain as day for Matt to see. He just snickered and turned back to his computer for a well-deserved bit of relaxation in the form of Thing-Thing 6. But he gave a small smile as he maneuvered the little round man around the screen amid the showers of computer-generated gore. They were going back home.

It took less than a day to return to the UK (but quite a bit of work—Matt had to hack into British Airways and put their names on a few first class seats, as well as print them out, _and _make it halfway across the country by the same process, only with American Airlines, as well), but before they contacted Keiko, Matt wanted to make sure they got in touch with the British mafia, a.k.a., The Syndicate. But establishing one contact hadn't been difficult. While the Syndicate had virtually no real ties to the American mafia, there was some contact. Favors had to be made to globalize, expand, et cetera. Rod Ross had given them one name, and an appointment was already set up for that night at a rundown pub in London.

_

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11:37 PM, July 17

"He's not gonna show," Mello grumbled as he toyed with an empty shot glass (previously, it had been full of a strange concoction of apple juice and watered down root beer to give the impression of actual whiskey; four more empty glasses sat on the side of the table. One trick they'd learned while dealing with the American mafia was that the opposite party became more comfortable more quickly after seeing that they themselves had been drinking. The theory was that the opposite party might even drink some real liquor themselves—and loose tongues meant easy information. And if the other party didn't react, well, they were no worse off, were they?

Matt shrugged. "Stay calm, old pal. The Syndicate doesn't like botching up stuff."

Mello continued to mutter condemnations beneath his breath, only to be halted when a short, redheaded young woman sauntered into the bar. The bartender smiled at her, waving casually, and she responded with a dazzling smile of her own. "Hey there, Max," she greeted him in a somehow simultaneously nonchalant and classy manner, with just a tantalizing edge of dangerous charm. Both Mello and Matt could tell instantly that this girl was definitely something else.

But what surprised them was how she went to the counter and ordered "the usual, if you please," right before turning on heel and waltzing over to their table.

Matt blinked as he stared up at the beauty who'd magically appeared before them. Her small, pixie-like face was padded just barely with baby fat, giving her an adorable-slash-gorgeous smile and two cute dimples, as well as hinting at her young age—around twenty, Matt estimated. A pert little nose sloped upward, giving way to thin eyebrows and stormy grey eyes with long, luxurious lashes. The rest of her body was hardly objectionable, either: long (for her height, anyway), lean legs encased in tight black leather pants and combat boots; a trim stomach, barely visible beneath her black baby doll tee that also clung to her curvy (but not ridiculous) chest; she clutched a black leather jacket that was carelessly slung over one shoulder.

Currently, her shoulder-length red hair lay down, straight with a hint of a curve so that it framed her face. Her pouty lips, covered in a clear gloss, curled into a cocky smirk as she surveyed Matt and Mello. "Hello, boys," she said in a pleasantly husky voice. "I believe you were expecting me…?"

Needless to say, both Mello and Matt were extremely confused. Matt's jaw hung agape, cigarette smoldering in a glass dish on the table, unnoticed, while Mello stared at her in arrogant disbelief, one eyebrow cocked, and a half-bite of chocolate hanging from his front teeth.

Finally, Matt recovered himself, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. "I sure as hell wish we were, beautiful," he said with his signature lady-killer smile, "but unless you happen to be Abe Johansson—"

"That's me."

Mello frowned deeply, swallowing his chocolate and reappraising the newcomer. "Ah, sorry, but we're not interested, Miss Whoever-You-Are…"

But the woman's smile turned subtly icy. "Oh, you're mistaken, boys. That's my honest-to-God name. Here's my card." She reached down her shirt (for dramatic effect, Mello assumed) and placed it on the table.

Matt held back a joyous whimper. They'd said their code phrase verbatim ("unless you happen to be Abe Johansson") and she'd returned properly ("that's my honest-to-God name," followed by the offer of a "card"). That was supposed to be the signal that they were dealing with the right people.

Mello snatched up the card quickly and scanned over it.

**Abe Johansson  
****Attorney at Law  
****Piers Rayne & Assoc.**

That was it. Piers Rayne was renowned for being the top man in the Syndicate. Moreover, they'd been told over the phone that Abe Johansson would introduce himself as a lawyer.

This woman was… Abe Johansson??

Matt pulled a chair from the table behind him over to "Abe." "Have a seat, gorgeous. Now…" He smiled disarmingly. "What's your name?"

"It's Abe," she said, grinning cheekily as she slid gracefully into her chair. The bartender himself approached them, then, and handed the redhead a tall glass, which looked to be a pint of beer. "Thanks, Max, you're a gem," she told him, slipping him a bill and winking.

"No' a'tall, Miss Johansson," he replied, smiling politely as he retreated.

Mello fought against a sneer as he watched Matt gape. "Abe… is… what?!"

"It's an alias, you twit," Mello hissed. "She's obviously set the place up."

Matt rolled his eyes. "I know that; haven't you noticed that no one else has come or gone since we got here?"

Abe smirked, nodding in acknowledgment. "You boys know your stuff." She took a hearty swig of her beer and smiled. "Now, what can we do for you?"

"Can't say much," Mello grunted as he threw back another shot (the last one at the table) and followed it up with a bite of chocolate. "Let's just say we could prove to be useful to the Syndicate."

Abe threw back her head and laughed, a hearty, friendly sound. "I see! And what leads you to assume this?"

"Put it this way," Matt drawled as he leaned back in his seat, obviously playing the lady's man. "We've helped Rod Ross and his _band_ of men back in the States. Earned and saved him a pretty penny."

"Hm…" Abe nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose Mr. Rayne will have to contact Mr. Ross himself to ascertain this, but… for now, it's interesting information. You also understand that getting in touch with the Syndicate means absolute loyalty to it, even unto death?"

Matt nodded, smiling brightly. "Oh, we know, princess!"

Mello grunted. "Hmm. Yes, we know that. Loyalty, start at the bottom under supervision, initiation, then fend for yourself and do what the boss says. We know."

Abe shook her head. "Oh, but there's much, much more than that. You must prove yourself useful in some way."

"Didn't we just say we had information?" Mello snapped, irked with Abe's cheerful-yet-seductive demeanor. Besides, he could smell her drink from where he sat; that glass contained not a drop of alcohol. She, too, was smart.

"Now, now, that is no way to treat a future colleague, is it?" she pouted. "And I don't see how you could really _know_ anything, not when your sense of fashion is so lacking. Are you attempting to appear as a transvestite?"

Mello twitched at that whilst Matt tried valiantly to cover his laughter. Abe turned to him, next. "Don't laugh, Dungeon Master. Besides, your overly flamboyant nature could make you look to others as Blondie's, ah, partner."

Matt's eyes grew wide, and his cigarette fell from his open mouth to land on his jeans. "Ow! Oh, geez—" With a muffled curse, he rescued his pants from the burning tobacco and grumpily pulled a new one from a box in his pocket.

"And I suppose you are trying to look like a badass tomboy with all the sex appeal of a tramp who throws herself at men," Mello returned smoothly. "You're succeeding more in looking like a spoiled brat who is used to getting what she wants."

"Touché." Abe downed a good half of her "beer" in one gulp and stared levelly at Mello, getting her face close to his. "You'll find that… while I may be a spoiled brat who gets what she wants… I'm also a hardened bitch with street savvy and the knowhow and guts to tie you up in knots. I wouldn't toy with me, if I were you." To punctuate the statement, she reached forward and pulled Mello's chocolate bar the remaining inch to her mouth, delicately biting off a chunk.

Meanwhile, Mello sat there, stymied, as he watched her sit back in her seat. She just… but… his chocolate…?!

Gracefully, Abe stood and donned her jacket. "Nice chatting with you, boys. If you have anything to say, call me again."

And with that, she left.

"W-wait!" Matt blurted out, leaping out of his seat (stumbling when he caught his toe on the chair's leg) and running out the door after her before Mello could stop him. "Miss Joh…"

"Ye-e-e-es?" She regarded him (and Mello as he appeared behind him) from atop her BMW K1300GT motorcycle.

At this, Mello twitched, torn between anger and utter weakness at seeing such an admittedly _hot_ woman atop a machine equally as appealing… and dressed in leather, to boot.

"Okay, we'll tell you what we've got," Matt offered. "Come on back…"

Abe pondered this for a moment. "Five minutes. If you haven't convinced me by then, you're done."

"Excellent…"

* * *

Thirty-seven minutes later, Matt was standing outside the bar, watching the smoke from his cigarette spiral up to the night sky as he waited for Keiko to receive his text message…

* * *

"I'll be up for bed in just a minute!" Keiko called to Lawliet, who was getting impatient. She kept finding new excuses, it seemed, to keep from being with him—needless to say, he wasn't terribly pleased. He didn't bother responding, and Keiko retreated to the kitchen for a bit of privacy. Her mobile phone was vibrating in her pocket, and she had to check…

Sure enough, it was from Matt's phone. She read it…

_think its n teh syndicat  
__2 early 2 tell  
__update 2 follow_

So, they'd gotten some information. With a smile, Keiko replied.

_thanx_

Her lack of verbosity and apparent gratitude would irk Mello greatly, and would likely amuse Matt; they both knew she was extremely thankful for their work.

"Keiko…?"

She sighed, unable to keep a smile from her face. "I'll be right there! Geez…"

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9:17 AM, July 18

The doorbell rang.

Keiko groaned, rolling over and nestling close to Lawliet's warm chest. "It's still nighttime… make 'em go away…"

Lawliet chuckled. "It is past nine o'clock, tenshi. You should get up, anyway."

"It's your fault I'm not getting enough sleep," she shot back, burying her face in the sheets. "You're the one who kept me up til three…"

"Only because you were an hour and a half later than you said you'd be," he replied without skipping a beat. "Come. We need to get dressed."

"Nooooo…"

"Yes, Keiko." Lawliet ran one hand lightly down her exposed side, just enough to tickle her. She squirmed, rolling away from his touch… off the bed and onto the floor with a loud _THUNK!_

"O-o-o-ow-w-w-w…" she groaned loudly from the floor, but Lawliet just sighed. "That was a dirty trick…"

"Come now," he said mildly, "since when have I fought fairly?"

"Damn you…" she muttered, among other muffled curses, none of which were really meant.

"Mm, that isn't what you said last night…"

There was a long pause, and Keiko finally sighed. "Grow up, Lawliet. And don't try and misconstrue that, you stupid pervert. Geez…"

It only took her a few minutes to stumble around the bedroom into sweats and one of Lawliet's shirts, and she then proceeded to half-fall, half-walk down the steps to the front door as the doorbell sounded again. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she mumbled in frustration as she finally reached it and pulled it open.

Standing there was Watari, smiling benignly. "Ah, good morning, Keiko. You look… tired."

"Yeah, but I probably got more sleep than you did," she muttered, a little guiltily. "The doorbell woke me up."

"I see," he responded diplomatically. "That would make anyone look a little wearied, I suppose."

Keiko looked past him to see the familiar black limousine. "I take it the two ex-convicts are here…?"

Watari nodded and turned around to the car. The door opened from within, and a brown head poked out, shining golden in the summer morning sun. He raised his gaze to the front door of the house, revealing handsome features and a grim expression. A long pause followed as he stood on the gravel drive, shoes crunching against the stones. "Hello, Keiko. Long time, no see."

Keiko sighed heavily as her brown eyes met his matching ones. "Hey, Light…"

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(1—Happy slapping refers to someone going up to a random person, smacking them (while a friend nearby films it all), and then running away. Very odd thing, I must admit…)

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Yay, more Mello and Matt-ness. :) But what's this, a new OC? My, my, they just keep popping up everywhere, don't they? Haha. Hope you guys like it! Reviews are VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!!!

Also... BlueHarpy thought that Matt looked like the smarter one, here... uh, that's not my intent. You'll see more of this in later chapters, but I'm portraying Matt as more verbose than Mello. That's all.


	8. Nate River Discovers a Vital Clue

**_Disclaimer: Don't ask me if I own _Death Note. _Does "Timekeeper101" look like "Tsugumi Ohba" or  
"Takeshi Obata" to you?_**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy. **_Advised by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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CHAPTER 8 - NATE RIVER DISCOVERS A VITAL CLUE

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_Continued from last time..._

"Hello, Keiko. Long time, no see."

Keiko sighed heavily as her brown eyes met his matching ones. "Hey, Light…"

The young man stepped to the side and reached into the back seat like a gentleman to help the other passenger to step out of the car. A blonde head with hair shorter than Keiko remembered gleamed in the sunlight. A petite young woman with blue contact lenses peered almost bashfully up at the dark-haired woman standing on the step. "H-hey, Keiko-Keiko…"

She exhaled. "Hello, Misa Amane."

It was apparent that Light had discussed with the model Keiko's possible vehemence toward her; she seemed rather apologetic and even a bit timid, as though harboring a fear of Keiko and her probable anger. Or more accurately, rage.

But Keiko did not appear to be enraged at all. Lawliet might've been able to see vestiges of it, yes, but the fact of the matter was that Keiko wasn't terribly upset—at least, not _at_ Misa. She was more upset that Misa and Light were there, at her house, simply waiting to be handcuffed to herself and her husband, respectively.

Never mind the fact that she was even more upset with Light than with Misa. Light-o, the surrogate little brother who'd betrayed her…

Keiko stepped aside and motioned for them to come inside. "I can make some tea, if you'd like to come in, Watari," she offered.

He politely declined, instead merely handing her a sack that he had in hand. Keiko took one look at the contents of said sack, and instantly felt a little sick. The handcuffs… two sets of them.

By this point, Light and Misa had reached the front step, and Keiko nodded once to Watari. "Thanks for doing this," she said genuinely, but her expression remained rather plaintive. She was thankful for his help, but even so, having to be with Misa Amane twenty-four/seven was going to be madness.

"Not at all, my dear," came the blithe response, and Watari paused before returning to his car. "I… wish you luck, Keiko."

She grunted. "I'm going to need it."

Inside, Light and Misa stood before the staircase in the entryway, taking in their surroundings. Keiko raised one eyebrow as she shut the door behind her. "Ah… no offense, but I'm a bit surprised to see you… not hanging all over Light, Misa."

"We're just friends, now," Light explained calmly. Keiko was surprised to find no lie or air of deception around him. Was he… telling the truth? She glanced over to Misa. The blonde model looked the same as always, but her hair was cut about to chin length, giving her a much more chic and rather sophisticated (but still cute) look. She no longer wore her gothic-lolita fashions, instead opting for a simpler look of two layered tank tops, a light zip up sweatshirt overtop, and a denim skirt.

"You've certainly changed a lot," Keiko admitted as she surveyed the young woman. She turned to Light, who looked very much the same as when she'd last seen him: casual (but nice) attire, slightly long brown hair, same neutral expression… if a bit friendlier than his Kira-face. "And you've not changed a bit."

Light gave a little half-smile at that. "No… not much. Looks like you haven't changed, either."

"Light Yagami. Misa Amane."

They all three looked up to see a familiar black-headed, slouching detective shuffling down the staircase toward them all. "And neither has he," Light added in a slight mumble. "Hello, Ryuzaki."

"Hello, Light Yagami. Forgive me, but it is not so nice to see you." Lawliet reached the bottom of the staircase, joining Keiko in staring at the ex-convicts. Well, he stared; she continued to yawn and blink wearily, despite her wary attitude.

"Aw, you two got married!" Misa exclaimed, smiling warmly.

There was a pause. "How did she not know about that…?" Keiko asked her husband in a low voice. He didn't respond.

Misa looked a little contrite at this. "I'm sorry. You probably hate me, Keiko-chan… and I don't blame you at all. I'd hate me, too. But I promise I'll try and make it up to you!"

Keiko blinked. "That's great and all, Misa, and I'm glad that you're sorry. But there are two things: one, I'm still not forgiving you… and two, how do you propose that you _make it up to me _what you did, or attempted to do?"

Misa was crestfallen at this, and Keiko felt a twinge of guilt (not enough to make her apologize, though). Before things could step out of hand, Light stepped forward. "I see this isn't going to work properly if we're all going to act like this." He glanced at Lawliet. "I'm assuming you're feeling much the same way about me."

"Mm, you are correct."

"Uh-huh." Light nodded. "Well, in that case, I would like to make one suggestion: no one brings up the last Kira case, except for unbiased informational purposes. Other than that, we all just _forget_ about it." He turned to Keiko and Lawliet. "I understand that you both hate us… but if we don't at least _act_ cordially to one another, this will be a living hell, and I don't know about you, but I'm not really eager to spend an indefinite amount of time with someone who hates my guts, either. So can we at least try and make this semi-bearable…?"

"He's got a point," Keiko muttered. Lawliet looked fairly miserable about this development, but as he looked down at Keiko, he realized that she probably felt just the same as he did about it, if not worse. She was merely better at hiding it, due to her acting prowess.

Lawliet sighed heavily as he glared at Light Yagami. "I do not think that I should be told what to do in my own—"

"Ryuzaki, Ryuu—stop," Keiko said loudly, talking over him. She turned her gaze to Light and Misa. "One moment." With that, she tugged Lawliet rather forcefully into the other room, out of earshot and the view of their _guests_. "Honey… please…" Her brown eyes searched his obstinate grey ones, mulishly staring back. "Gosh-darn it, you know better than that. Light made a _suggestion. _He said it himself. Now stop being such a child." She sighed. "I don't care if you don't apologize. Just… try and keep from making pointless arguments."

He looked only about four years old as he stared back at her, almost pouting. "You are a hypocrite."

Keiko slumped over slightly, a little surprised when his arms snaked around her waist. She continued to speak, anyway. "Yeah… but I didn't pursue a pointless argument, or try to start one. I'm saying from _now on_… Please?"

He didn't immediately respond. Keiko exhaled heavily and stood on tiptoe, closing her lips around his earlobe for a moment or two. "Come on, Lawliet," she whispered, feeling him soften. "For me." She paused. "If you do this… I'll make you whatever dessert you want once the handcuffs are off."

Lawliet wondered how far her definition of "dessert" went and wondered if it included simply Keiko and some chocolate sauce, or his favorite recipe, or possibly a whipped cream pie to throw at Light, just for kicks, later on. "Three desserts."

"Two."

"Three."

"None."

"Three."

Keiko sighed. "Fine, three. One day's worth of desserts; three meals. That's it."

He frowned. "Couldn't I pick the times in which these desserts are prepared?" Hey, if he was going to throw things at his rival, he was going to do it on a full stomach.

"Whatever. So long as the handcuffs are OFF when you pick them."

"Agreed. Shall I tell you what I want now, or later?"

Keiko rolled her eyes. "You have ten seconds until I walk back over there."

"Later, it seems."

"Uh-huh." A relatively mild look on her face, Keiko strolled casually back into the entryway, Lawliet following behind with a careful mask of neutrality upon his features. "Problem solved," Keiko announced. "Sorry about that."

Instantly, Lawliet felt rather guilty. Here he was, acting like a complete asshole (_Keiko was right about that,_ he told himself), and there _she_ was, apologizing for him, knowing he wouldn't. His grumpier side wanted to consider his rudeness as payback for her transgression the day before yesterday. _No, _he told himself. _No, I forgave her. It is in the past. Let it stay there. I shall apologize for it later… when she isn't expecting it. That should cheer her up._

Inwardly, he laughed at himself. _You, my friend, are, indeed, an asshole. You're purposefully playing off her emotions in order to increase your worth in her eyes._

_Well, at least I have an excuse. I'm not going to apologize in front of Light Yagami…_

He shrugged it off. He would make it up to her later. They'd both get over it.

"So… hardly any of the details were given to us," Light mused, then, as Keiko reached into the sack to pull out the handcuffs, handing one pair to her husband.

"Mm, there is little to be said, Light Yagami," Lawliet told him plainly as he clamped the metal down on the young man's wrist. "This is only the fourth day of the investigation. All I have theorized is that the killer is simply challenging me by masquerading as Kira, by acting solely in London, and by killing more than ten victims his first day. All three can be clearly seen as ploys for attention from L."

Instantly, Light mulled this over, taking a few seconds to come up with his response. "Hmm… I see your point, but don't you think that it might only be some not-so-smart average Joe who came across Kira's powers?"

_Oh, that's right,_ Keiko remembered. _We didn't tell him what Kira's killing methods were, after he lost ownership of the notebook…_

"You mean a Death Note?" Keiko prompted him.

Light gave her a confused look. "Okay… I believe you, but I don't really remember anything about a… Death Note."

"Oh, boy… we've got a lot of catching up to do," Keiko muttered as she clamped the remaining end of Misa's cuffs onto herself. "Come on. Kitchen. Anyone want anything to drink? Water, tea, lemonade, milk, Ramune…?"

Misa gave a small, shy chuckle. "You have Ramune in England?"

Keiko shrugged. "We have some imported every month or so. I'd miss the stuff too much, and since L—_Ryuzaki_, dammit… since Ryuzaki likes it, and the kids…"

There came the sound of a gasp. "_Kids?_ As in, more than one?" Misa looked delighted, and Keiko was rather amused at her sudden cheerfulness, especially given their cold greeting.

Honestly, it was rather hard to stay mad at the bubbly model for long. Keiko finally decided to force the past from her mind and talk to Misa in what could only be described as a _polite_ manner. "Twins. One boy, one girl."

"Names?" Light prompted, a half-smile on his face as he took a seat at the kitchen table adjacent to Lawliet. He folded his hands together before his chin as he leaned his elbows on the wooden surface.

Keiko frowned and looked to her husband. "What are we calling them while they're here…?" They'd spent most of the previous day trying not to remember that Light and Misa were coming to stay, and somehow, arranging aliases for their children had slipped through the cracks. "Same as always?"

Lawliet slowly nodded. "I suppose that would suffice…" Since they had virtually nothing to fear from Light or Misa in the way of actual names…

"Alex and Aimi."

Misa frowned. "Aru-ek-su… What a difficult name to say!"

Keiko covered her laugh with one hand as she towed Misa around the kitchen to prepare beverages for her company. "Well, it isn't Japanese… Did you guys want anything to drink…?"

"I'll have water," said Light softly behind his interlaced fingers.

"Lemonade, please," requested Lawliet as he perched in his seat.

"And you still sit like that," Light muttered with a smirk.

"Forty percent is forty percent," he shot back.

"Ramune!" Misa sang as she helped Keiko fix the drinks. Lawliet's, of course, received extra sugar stirred into it before it could be served, but the ice water was ready quickly, as was the Ramune, for which Keiko also opted. "Are we going to meet your kids?" Misa wanted to know, smiling broadly as she took a seat opposite Lawliet.

"Mm, they are currently lodged elsewhere," Lawliet explained calmly after sipping his lemonade. "Tension will be running high whilst the handcuffs are in place, I assume, and there are certain things I do not wish them to be exposed to just yet."

"In other words, he doesn't want the twins to see their parents chained to people or learning about the… _atrocities? _committed during the Kira case."

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, wherein Light gave a sort of sigh and turned to stare out the window into the back yard. It was at this that Keiko knew he regretted having become Kira in the first place, that he was thoroughly repentant for his crimes. Misa, too, looked rather embarrassed, and hung her head, twisting her hands in her lap.

Keiko glanced over at Lawliet and gave a tiny half-smile, as if to say, _See? They're not so bad… _She surprised herself with her own acceptance of the two ex-murderers. Just a few days ago, she'd been ranting and raving about how they'd have to spend time with _them_, the "unspeakables." Well… admittedly, she was more upset about being handcuffed to Misa, and being separated from Lawliet. But Keiko remembered the past, and the times she'd spent at headquarters with Misa and Light. Misa wasn't so bad as a person. A tad irritating sometimes, but then, everyone had their moments. Her vehemence towards the model sprang mostly from the fact that Misa had tried to kill Lawliet. But now that she seemed remorseful…

That didn't mean Keiko was going to forgive her yet… but it did make her feel less inclined to be angry with her.

Maybe having Light and Misa over wasn't going to be _quite_ as bad as she thought…

Emphasis on "quite."

* * *

"Veal and roasted potatoes and a steamed vegetable medley?!" Scout exclaimed.

Near stared back up at her blankly. "Yes." It wasn't as though it should be difficult—not for her, anyway. She didn't have to make the meal, only put it on a tray after it was prepared. He wasn't sure why she was so upset.

_Who does he think he is, the king of England?!_ Scout thought furiously. _Veal?! Steamed vegetables? Ridiculous! This isn't Buckingham Palace, it's a damn orphanage!_

But she complied…

_Damn that stupid BOY…_ thought Scout angrily as she smoothly headed down to the kitchen. Outwardly, she appeared blank, neutral… calm. Inwardly, she seethed at the indignation of having to wait on a twenty year old man. _Almost_ twenty, anyway. His birthday was less than a month away. Scout told herself that she wasn't going to go out of her way to celebrate anything for that brat.

Well, it wasn't Near's age that bothered her so much as his capability. He would have no trouble whatsoever taking care of himself—he was a genius! If he'd been handicapped in some way, that would be a whole 'nother ball of wax; however, Near was in perfect health… except maybe socially.

But any episodes like the one two days ago, wherein she'd told him to take care of himself, had not occurred since then. Scout knew that Mr. Wammy would not be pleased if she did this, and had thus attended to Near's every need. She was polite about it all, but icily so, never giving him the slightest hint of a smile or encouraging him in the least. Not even in his actual work…

Not that Near had expected anything of the sort…

Meanwhile, as Scout fetched him lunch consisting of _veal, potatoes, and steamed vegetables_ (she nearly threw a fit just remembering the order itself), Near sat in his room, pondering over what in the world was driving Scout to be so furious. He hadn't expected her to be particularly friendly with the prospect of waiting on him, but neither had he foreseen such acrimony. After all, they'd spent several years together. Neither of them was exactly open with the other, but they'd been cordial. They were always lumped together, always the outcasts; why should they fight and make things even more miserable for themselves? No, they'd always maintained a pretense of friendship, despite the fact that both of them knew a relationship of the sort had never existed in the first place.

But why the sudden rage?

It was possible, Near decided, that perhaps she'd never liked him at all… perhaps she'd always hated him.

That seemed highly unlikely.

He recalled one specific time together…

**.:FLASHBACK MODE:.**

_The rain poured down in sheets, pounding on the roof and windows of Wammy's House. It wasn't that rain was uncommon, but the way it seemed to dump from above as though the clouds were buckets full of water…_

_Near sat in one of the five common rooms, one knee pulled up to his chest as he methodically placed piece after piece onto the puzzle. Beside him sat a sandy-blonde girl of about thirteen who was engaged in playing a game of Risk against herself._

_"Isn't it rather boring if you play a multiple-player game all alone?" he wondered absently, never removing his gaze from the puzzle._

_Scout paid him no heed—or, well, she didn't seem to, at first. Maybe half a minute passed before she responded. "I'm not playing. I am strategizing. Perhaps I can form new ideas by favoring neither side and using the hardest tactics against the other. New opportunities might present themselves."_

_She had a point. Strategy was an excellent way to get one's mind working. "Wouldn't it be more beneficial if you merely asked someone else to play against you?"_

_"I could ask, but most of the children here would not be as well-versed as I in such matters."_

_She wasn't bragging; she was merely stating facts. It was true, too—having led her own gang on the streets of Brooklyn, she had a very tactical mind and would probably make a brilliant general._

_"I could play against you," he offered, snapping the last puzzle piece into place. "This puzzle ceases to challenge me." He announced this as though any puzzle really challenged him. He'd yet to find a jigsaw puzzle which he could not solve and solve quickly._

_"I suppose you would make a good match for my wits," Scout finally conceded, clearing the board and replacing each of the tiny plastic soldiers into their separate containers. A tiny smile flitted about her lips as she met his gaze. "Which color would you rather play with?"_

**.:END FLASHBACK:.**

That game of Risk had been by far the most challenging game of his life. Scout definitely gave him a run for his money… It had lasted hours and hours, with no quarter given between the two of them. It was a fight to the death… the death of little plastic soldiers. Who would have thought that one day, he would be gambling the lives of real men and women…? Practice on a game board did help, but was nothing compared to real life. Emotions didn't matter with plastic; dice and cards did nothing to help the chances of saving lives… and there weren't always reinforcements.

But he recalled that Scout had been reasonably pleasant during that time… she'd softened a little during that game.

Well, not exactly. She'd dogged him until Mr. Wammy finally called the game a draw.

It had lasted four days, and still, neither of them was showing any kind of true advantage over the other.

They'd been evenly matched.

A faint creak sounded as Scout returned with the meal. Near glanced at the clock on his computer. He'd been reminiscing far longer than he'd realized…

"Thank you," he said quietly, keeping his gaze focused on his computer screen. "Is there any dessert in the kitchen?"

Scout frowned. He wasn't welcome. She wouldn't say so. But she couldn't help but be further enraged by his question. She was inches away from lashing out at him…

"I realize you have quite a bit on your plate," Near said softly at her silence.

He was taunting her?! So Scout perceived it. She curled one hand into a fist. This was the closest she'd been to harming anyone since leaving New York…

But she couldn't, wouldn't, do it. It would be a black mark on her otherwise clean record. Mr. Wammy could have grounds to put her on probation, or to send her elsewhere.

"I'll check," she said in a defeated voice.

Her weariness was almost inaudible, but Near, being the perceptive boy that he was, caught it.

Three minutes later, Scout returned with a slice of cold apple pie on a small plate, setting it on the silver tray beside Near. "Thank you," he murmured, almost whispered… he hadn't expected her to remember his favorite dessert…

Or maybe it was coincidence?

Probably not.

But why had she bothered?

"Scout…" Near said carefully. "What is it about me that irritates you so much?" For a moment, he wondered why he even wanted to know. Why was he worrying himself over the disgruntled demeanor of another person? He knew he annoyed people almost constantly. It was merely the way he seemed to not give a damn about anyone else but himself. Well, fair enough, he usually didn't. But that he actually cared enough to ask…

Scout, too, was thrown. She blinked, but her surprise didn't linger. "Do you honestly want to know why?" she fairly hissed. "You're almost twenty years old, you have an incredible job… and yet, you sit on your ass all day long, expecting other people to wait on you. Then, when they do, you treat them a bit better than the dirt on your shoes, and if they're lucky, you'll thank them. All you do is play with your stupid toys—you're like a damn toddler! You don't care about anyone, except that they do you favors that you're always capable of doing by your own damn self! Is that sufficient, or shall I keep going?"

Near said nothing for almost a full minute, listening to Scout as she just stood there, breathing a little more heavily than normal. "Yes, that would be irritating," he said quietly, not daring to meet her gaze.

He said nothing more, and Scout, finally fed up with his silence, left.

_

* * *

_

Oooh... well, things are starting to get moving... Tell me whatcha thought of it, please!!

GOMEN NASAI, EVERYONE!! I'm sorry this took so long--I was kind of in a writing funk... I hope this makes up for it. I'll try to update sooner, next time...


	9. Jean Louise Makes a Disturbing Discovery

**_Disclaimer: I don't own _Death Note _or its characters._**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy **_and helped by _**Madeline Cullen**_._

**

* * *

**

CHAPTER 9 - JEAN LOUISE MAKES A DISTURBING DISCOVERY

* * *

"Scout?"

The young woman looked up from Quillish Wammy's desk. "Yes, Aimi?"

The black-haired girl slowly crossed the room and sat in the chair before the desk. "What are you doing?"

The faintest traces of a smile made the edges of Scout's lips curl upward. "You are merely bored, are you not?"

Aimi nodded. "I am afraid that the decrease in homework during the summer rather leaves me wishing for some reasonable pastime. Moreover, my father won't allow me to come back to the house to watch him work…" She sighed. "That he refuses to tell me why my brother and I are here irritates me."

Again, Scout fought against a smile, dimly reflecting that perhaps Aimi was one of the few people in the world who had the ability to make her smile at all. "I see your point. It would annoy me, as well. However, there are times when you must learn to do as you are told…" She sighed. "I, too, am in the midst of a rather… tedious task requested of me."

"What is that?"

"I must attend to Near."

"I suppose he's like Daddy," Aimi guessed. "He'd rather amuse himself while solving a case, and he expects someone to do everything else for him."

Scout wondered briefly why in the world she hadn't thought ill of L… as Aimi had pointed out, he did the same thing. Perhaps it was because he only expected Keiko to wait on him… No, it wasn't that. It was more.

_That's it… L doesn't treat people like complete idiots… Well, not EVERYONE, anyway. He's a bit better about giving people proper respect…_

Funnily enough, that mostly had to do with Keiko and her influence on him, as well. If she'd known Scout's thoughts and how she was viewed, as L's wife and considering the roles she carried out, Keiko would have gone berserk.

"I suppose so," Scout admitted at last. "But Near…"

Aimi nodded. "I understand that you are hesitant in speaking; if he was to hear of our conversation or your real thoughts on him, he would not be pleased. But Uncle Near is even worse at dealing with people than Daddy is."

Well, she was right about that…

_Is that all?_ wondered Scout. _I suppose I could've thought of it that way…_

_No, you couldn't,_ her other side answered lazily. _Come on; you still would've thought of him like the selfish, tyrannical chauvinist he is._

_Not that he means to be…_

_Well, who does? No one says to themselves that they WANT to be chauvinist. They become so over time, due to their own selfishness or gradually built prejudices and mindsets._

_So… what's Near's own mindset? He doesn't really exude selfishness… it's more… machinated. Robotic. Apathetic…_

_I wonder why?_

"I'm sorry," murmured Scout absently, glancing at the clock. "I should go and see if he wants anything…" In a rather distracted manner, she stood and almost glided to the door, as though on autopilot. Aimi watched her older friend go, silently wondering what had caused the sudden change in her demeanor.

* * *

Alex sulked. His homework was too hard! Not to mention, boring. He wanted nothing more than to be able to go outside and play cricket with his friends—most of whom had already finished their homework.

Then again, _they_ hadn't been sleeping through the lesson that explained everything. _He_ had, and now, he was reaping the consequences.

He scowled at the floor, hands shoved stolidly into his pockets as he roamed the halls of Wammy's, brain racked with possible solutions to the way to perform long division.

He hated math. It was his worst subject.

It wasn't that he struggled with it; he merely struggled more than most of the Wammy's kids, geniuses that they were. As it was, Alex was averaging a solid eighty-five percent in his fourth-grade level mathematics course.

Aimi was acing her pre-algebra course.

He sighed. Why did she have to be so good at everything without even trying? All he wanted was to be good at something, just one thing… No. Instead, he was mediocre in all he did, the only exceptions being sports and geography. But he couldn't make a career out of a sport! His father would never allow it. No, any career he picked would have to be something smart, something where he could use his smarts. But no boss would want a mediocre mind, not when there were other Wammy's kids who could perform a job more quickly, more efficiently, and more thoroughly. Nor could he become a geographer. The entire world had already been mapped out!

The creak of a door's hinges caught his ears, and Alex looked up to see Aimi exiting Grandpa Watari's office. Inwardly, he seethed. He'd known she'd been in there with Scout; she was practically Scout's shadow. And if she was with Scout…

She knew. She knew everything. Scout, in Mr. Wammy's place, would surely know everything about why they'd been sent over to the orphanage. And Scout would've told her "pet Aimi" about it all, of course.

It never occurred to Alex that he might not be the only one kept in the dark, that perhaps Scout didn't know everything, that perhaps there were some secrets that Scout kept to herself and didn't tell Aimi. It never even occurred to him that perhaps his parents kept secrets from him for his own protection.

Of course, under the assumption that they loved Aimi _more_, he wouldn't think that his parents had his best interests in mind.

_

* * *

_

8:04 AM, July 19, 2011

The alarm's clarion call still echoed in Keiko's mind. Even now, four minutes later, she was as motionless as if she'd fallen back into slumber. Wrapped up under the blankets, head and all, Keiko finally rolled over to her right, whimpering a small moan as she snuggled up against the warm body of her husband. His arms curled up around her body, and Keiko felt a little less malicious toward the world as a whole. "Mmm… Lawls… I don't want to get up…"

She knew her speech would be muffled from within the sanctity of the blanket, but all the same, Keiko felt so warm and cozy at the moment that she did not much feel like poking her head out into the cold air of the rest of the room just to speak more clearly.

After a few moments, Keiko finally worked up the courage to uncover her head, at least, but she didn't want to open her eyes just yet. The light streaming in through the window was too bright. "Nngh…" she moaned, slowly uncurling from the "scared hedgehog" position she'd been in moments before. Her head tilted then slightly downward as Lawliet moved his head to rest on the same pillow. Keiko smiled softly, still not opening her eyes, and nuzzled closer, rubbing her nose against his.

Their lips met…

Keiko froze.

The other figure froze, too. Keiko realized then that the person beside her was most definitely not Lawliet. For one, those weren't his lips. Second, this figure wasn't quite large enough, and third, its grip on her waist was rather too tight. It was then that Keiko felt the now-warm metal of the handcuffs around her wrist…

Downstairs, Lawliet and Light sat at the kitchen table, the former searching something on his laptop computer, the latter sitting quietly in his seat, a little impatient at the lack of breakfast. It wasn't that Light couldn't get his own food. He _would_ have, if not for Lawliet's obstinacy. Light had even berated Lawliet for not being considerate enough to get up and get his food by himself like any other human being… but Lawliet had made it clear that he was not going to move, except to kick his rival in the face (which he had, in order to drive his point home… and to start the morning off with a smile). He wanted coffee with his cake, and Keiko made coffee better than anyone except Watari. But neither were present, so he'd elected to wait patiently.

Presently, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from upstairs, joined quickly by a sharper, shriller cry. Both of the men at the table started, and Lawliet sighed. "Keiko…"

Light was still rather surprised, though, as evidenced by his wide eyes. "Should we go check on them?"

"Mmm, no," responded the detective, who was already back at work. "I would, however, brace myself. There is an eighty-seven percent chance that a terrified female will leap onto you in about seven seconds."

So he'd predicted this sort of outcome…

In less than one second, the sound of a door being slammed could be heard, as well as something of a scuffling noise, followed by a thunderous rumbling that lasted for about four seconds. Lawliet stood and turned.

Exactly two seconds later…

Keiko and Misa came flying into the kitchen and into the arms of Lawliet and Light, respectively. Light, caught unawares by Misa's flying leap, went sprawling down to the floor, dragging down their "hosts," as well.

Keiko burrowed into Lawliet's arms, very obviously shaken. "Omigosh… omigosh…"

"Just breathe, Keiko," he told her calmly. "I'm right here."

"Oh, geez…"

"Misa, what in the hell…?!"

Misa clung to Light, evidently desperate to be held. "I'm sorry, Light!" she whimpered. "Oh, that scared me…"

"What happened?" Light demanded, staring incredulously at the two women.

"I woke up thinking I was with Naoki-kun…" (2) she gasped.

"And you kissed me!" Keiko shrieked, repulsed, squirming in her futile attempt to get even closer to Lawliet. "Oh… that was horrible…"

"What are you talking about?" Misa cried. "_You _kissed _me_!"

"All right, all right," said Light smoothly. Evidently, one portion of his Kira stint had yet to die: his still-constant desire to be a peacemaker. "Calm down, both of you. It was an accident… let's just forget about it and move on."

"Ugh…" Keiko gulped, shuddering in Lawliet's grasp. "The sooner these cuffs are off, the better… Ryuu, I'm sorry I ever made fun of you about the handcuffs, last time… I get it, now…"

He gave a half-hearted smirk. "I understand…"

Light rolled his eyes. "Could you get off of me, Misa?"

"Oh! Sorry, Light…" With that, she slowly got to her feet, Keiko paralleling her move.

"It's fine," he muttered, a hint of amusement showing through his irritation.

An awkward silence hung over the four of them until Lawliet finally requested some breakfast. Instantly, Keiko went into a flustered frenzy to start the coffee machine, a little on edge after her mishap with the model who followed her around the kitchen, offering to help out here and there.

Eventually, breakfast was served and Light's hunger was satisfied, as was Lawliet's craving for coffee.

Keiko sighed quietly to herself as Misa mumbled something about maybe wanting to take a shower. It was going to be a _long_ day…

* * *

Scout rapped softly on Near's door. After her newfound curiosity sparked by her conversation with Aimi, she supposed that she should pay more attention to Near himself, possibly to his actual motives for acting the way he did.

In truth, Scout did feel a little bad for being so harsh… well, not entirely. He _had _deserved it, after all… But she could've kept her tone in check. That was the first time in years she'd actually lost her temper… and it was a wonder she hadn't hit him. And besides, ever since then, he'd been significantly more polite, saying "please" and "thank you," even meeting her eyes each time she'd spoken to him—or rather, asked if he needed anything. The tension between them had been growing increasingly awkward. Neither of them would say a word beyond what general decorum required:

"Would you please bring up some turkey and gravy for lunch?"

"Yes. Anything else?"

"A glass of water, thank you."

And that was the end of it.

Scout tapped the backs of her knuckles on Near's bedroom door twice. In a moment, a voice came from within: "It's open."

She turned the knob, stepping quietly inside. She'd half-expected his black eyes to be staring back at her, but to no avail… for some reason, he hid his gaze by keeping his gaze focused on a set of rubbery finger puppets. There were a few of the toys that Scout instantly recognized (figures of Mello, Aimi, and Keiko); others were not so easy (L, Roger, and Near himself), but all were eventually comparable to a human counterpart. Also visible were a masked figure marked "New Kira" and a solemn-faced, brown-haired doll in a suit marked "Kira." A sandy-headed figure caught her eyes… and she saw lying next to the Near-doll a model of herself.

Scout twitched in annoyance. Him and his sick hobbies… she knew these were to help him figure out interactions and keep his thoughts straight… but she couldn't ignore the fact that the head of her figure was touching the lower front of his own doll. Whether they'd been casually set that way unintentionally or they'd been purposefully placed there, she didn't know—nor did she care. All that mattered to her was the possibility that her doll appeared to be…

Instantly, Scout's mind went to _very_ inappropriate places, and she cringed.

"Yes?" Near's voice broke through her unwanted thoughts, making her jerk her gaze up toward his head, though he did not turn to her. He continued with his preoccupation with his figures, his back facing the increasingly enraged Scout.

"Can… I… get you… anything…?" she asked through clenched teeth.

At her furious tone, Near froze, but he did not turn. He _still_ didn't. Perhaps he didn't want to look at the face of doom staring back at him… not that he could be blamed. Once Scout was angry… well, bad things were bound to happen.

"Judging by your tone, it would undoubtedly end badly for me if I asked for anything at the moment," he said a little hesitantly. "I do not wish to be maimed, physically, intellectually, or emotionally."

Scout gave one curt nod, and, unable to speak, walked with her head high through the door.

It wasn't until two minutes and thirty-nine seconds after she left that Near realized the position the rubber figures had been in. A rare blush spread across his pale cheeks. "Oh…"

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(1—"Jean Louise" refers to Jean Louise "Scout" Finch from _To Kill a Mockingbird_.)

(2—Someone named Naoki is apparently Misa's current boyfriend. I made that up.)

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So... yeah... SORRY IT'S SHORT, and SORRY THERE'S NO MELLO/MATT!!! I wanted to put them in there, but I suck at mafia scenes. Yeah, so that was a great way to form a story... Ugh. BlueHarpy, WHY ARE YOU HALFWAY ACROSS THE STATE WHEN I NEED YOU?!?! *Waaahhh...* Anyway, I PROMISE there will be Matt/Mello in the next chapter. I PROMISE.

_Also... sorry it took so long to post... again... STUPID WRITER'S BLOCK!!! Ach... I am really in a funk. Truly. I'm not even busy... but I just keep staring at the screen of my computer, going "I can't think of anything... maybe I'll play some Kitten Cannon or something..." It's horrible. I WILL TRY TO UPDATE REALLY SOON!!!! I WILL TRY!!! Once things pick up and the actioni starts, I'll be much more motivated to write, so... sit tight. Things'll get better... eventually... _


	10. A Classic Mafia Situation

**_Disclaimer: I don't own _Death Note _or its characters._**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy; **_helped by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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CHAPTER 10 - A CLASSIC MAFIA SITUATION

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Mello impatiently slammed his fist into the brick wall, glowering under the fur-trimmed hood of his crimson overcoat. "Dammit, she's late. That's what you expect from a woman…"

Matt took a deep pull on his cigarette, sulking against the wall on the opposite side of the alley. He hated being outdoors, especially during the daytime. "You shouldn't say that stuff about women. That's no way to get a date."

The blond haired man scowled. "I don't have time for women. And besides, nine times out of ten, they're stupid and annoying and a waste of carbon and oxygen."

Matt rolled his eyes. "And you wonder why you haven't been shagged yet…"

Mello said nothing in return.

Several moments of silence passed, and Mello began to think about this _Abe_. It was very obviously an alias; her real name couldn't have been Abe. Unless it was a nickname? But what for?

_Forget it,_ he thought to himself. _It doesn't matter. Why do you want to know, anyway?_

He paused. _I'm not entirely sure…_

_Then stop wondering!_

Rather angered that he was dwelling on such a subject, he turned on heel and began to pace in the small space that constituted the alley. He muttered various expletives under his breath, and Matt chuckled. He was sure he'd caught the words "Abe" and "stupid women"…

"Relax, buddy. The mafia doesn't disappoint," he said sagely, keeping his orange-goggled eyes on his PSP2. "It wouldn't be good for business, if they did."

"We aren't _the mafia_," came a sweet voice, and the two Wammy's geniuses turned to see a red-head standing at the opposite end of the alleyway. Three large men flanked her, and they stepped forward in something of a delta formation. Abe waltzed straight up to Mello and tapped his nose with her index finger, a cute smile on her features. "We are the Syndicate." She took a step back and jerked her head to the man on her right. Matt gulped. He stood a full head and shoulders above Mello, and while he wasn't exactly a body builder, looked rather muscular. Close-cropped sandy brown hair created a fuzz-like appearance on the top of his head; his dark eyes glared at Matt as if he were a bug to be crushed. "This is Edgar Dickenson," Abe said formally. "Friends call him Ed."

She turned to the next man, a short man of Japanese descent. "James Shima. Everyone calls him Ramen."

At this, Mello raised his eyebrows minimally, wondering with vague amusement what Keiko would say if she heard that comment.

"And this… is Toulouse Bitner." This man was thin and possessed rather nondescript features. Most wouldn't look twice at him. Blue eyes, brown hair, square chin… anything else on him was "average" or "medium." But something about him seemed rather menacing, as though he gave off a pulsing aura of danger. As if to confirm this, his hand slipped into his pocket and emerged with a pair of brass knuckles. He smiled threateningly. Abe smiled sweetly at Matt and Mello. "He's called Two-Bit."

"Oh, they're lovely, Miss Abe," said Matt with a false cheer. "Let's invite them to tea, sometime…" He took a step back.

Mello, however, remained firmly in place. He stared coolly at Two-Bit, never blinking, never hinting at any sort of fear. He had none, in fact. Mello's gaze narrowed, and he felt the anger that this two-bit Two-Bit, this thug, was even part of such a refined group (even if they were criminals) as the Syndicate. Just looking at Two-Bit annoyed him. Brass knuckles… what were they worth against a gun? This idiot…

Two-Bit returned his gaze with a surprising fierceness. A staring contest of sorts soon commenced, which Abe finally broke up. She giggled girlishly, which irked Mello. "Haha, there's nothing remotely two-bit about Two-Bit," she assured him flippantly, dancing away. "And apparently, there's nothing mellow about Mello," she added thoughtfully. "Piers talked to your Mr. Ross, and he learned quite a bit about you two."

"Such as…?" Mello grumbled, a little irritated about the pun on his name.

"Oh… things," Abe responded. But her demeanor changed quickly back to the seductive-yet-cheerful façade. "Come on, boys! We're late!"

Mello half-expected one of the men to snap back with something along the lines of "well, that's your fault, Abe," but none did. That told him a great deal. Either Abe was a high-ranking mafia member, or the tardiness was not due to her. Factoring in what he knew of the young woman, he was inclined to believe that it was because Abe was a high-ranking member.

"Come on, boys!" she chorused again, leading them down the alley and to a dark van parked at the sidewalk. "In you get!"

Mello stopped, pulling a chocolate bar from his pocket and taking a bite of it. "Hey, Abe," he said coolly. "What's this? What're we doing, hm?"

She stopped, but suddenly, a shadow blocked Mello's line of vision. Standing before him was Two-Bit, his brass knuckles gleaming forebodingly. Instantly, Mello's arm reached into his coat, smoothly pulling out a handgun that he held to Two-Bit's forehead… all before anyone could blink. Mello stood there calmly, holding the gun steadily, pressing its barrel into the man's forehead as he took another bite of the chocolate bar. "Step down," he drawled, looking rather nonchalant about the whole ordeal. "Let's get something straight. I don't like you. You make one wrong move and you're dead. Got it?"

Two-Bit growled at him, glaring in the realization of his loss. "I'll get you for this, Blondie…"

"Clever," he spat. "You've got such a knack for comebacks. Now, step aside before you annoy me further."

"Two-Bit!" Abe snapped loudly, her eyes burning with fury. "Stand down."

The man stared back at her mutinously for a moment before silently replacing his weapon in his pocket. He glared at Mello, then, just before he turned to enter the van. Out on the sidewalk, Matt looked at his friend and sighed. Mello's temperamental attitude and desire for dominance would never change…

Once in the van, Abe turned to them (she sat in the middle whilst Mello and Matt took up residence in the back seat). "Here. I need to put these on you both." In her hand dangled a pair of handkerchiefs, and Matt balked. "Don't worry; you'll remain here in the van while me and the boys do all the work."

"And make us look like accomplices when you and your _two-bit_ crew are caught?" he shot back. "But don't even think about tying us up, either. We can't be caught helpless and at the mercy of your thugs."

Abe paused. "Look, if you're going to be in the Syndicate, you're going to have to play by our rules. We're tying you up. If we're caught, just claim that you're hostages."

Matt turned his head in Mello's general direction and gave a single nod. "You heard the lady. She's got a point…"

Grumpily, Mello muttered a few curses while his hands were being tied behind his back. Abe giggled as she moved to Matt. "Painted fingernails, Dungeon Master?" Matt grumbled some incoherent, giving no real answer. After this, Abe moved down to his ankles to secure them. Gags were stuffed into their mouths to complete the ensemble, and the "mission" the Syndicate members were taking on was explained. Abe and her three men were going to rob a nearby bank; they were meeting their accomplices at the scene of the future crime. Ed had been left behind to stay with the van, but had wanted to have a smoke; thus, he'd stepped outside the vehicle, at Abe's orders, to do so. It was rather old-fashioned (they could've easily just instructed a hacker to transfer some funds from one account to another), but a large part of it was to see how Mello and Matt would react to high-pressure situations.

The second the van door slammed shut, Matt chuckled to himself and began to work at his bonds. In a few moments, his hands were loose, and he removed his gag and blindfold before moving down to his ankles. "Haha, always come prepared. I always knew that emo nail polish look would come in handy…" He held his fingers up to his face and grinned. "Thank you, babies."

Mello grunted beside him, impatient to be untied. "You know, Mel," Matt said conversationally as he began to cut his friend's bonds, "those neko-te finally came in handy… Good idea." (1)

The second his gag was removed, Mello retorted with, "I told you not to call me that. Now get me out of this…!"

Matt grinned. "You better start wearing those neko-te after this, huh?"

"I'm not painting my fingernails," was the flat response.

In a few moments, both of the young men were free and had incapacitated Ed, who was now tied up in their place. Mello had taken control of the vehicle and had backed it up into the nearby alleyway, out of sight of most pedestrians. Matt, however, had run down the street and hotwired a parked vehicle and was waiting for the action to start.

Minutes passed. It had been more than forty minutes… Suddenly, a distant shout came from down the street, and Mello turned the key in the ignition. Not ten seconds later, a masked Abe, Two-Bit, and Ramen came running, and less than four seconds later, they were off, tires screeching on the cracked asphalt and concrete. Abe, who'd ended up first in the van, laughed and pulled off her ski mask, climbing into the front seat as Mello drove the van through the streets, guiding it towards the freeway.

It was then that Abe got a good look at the driver. "What the—!? You—what?! Where's Ed? And Dungeon Master?" Before anything else was asked, she pulled a handgun from her jacket and pointed it toward Mello's head.

Mello chuckled lowly. "Don't try it." In his right hand was a gun of his own, pointed beneath his left arm, with which he steered the van. He then glanced out the passenger side window to see Matt driving the civilian car on the left. The incorrigible young man grinned and waved in a friendly manner, but it was perfectly clear that the other passengers of the car could be squashed if any of the Syndicate members pulled anything. "Now, _Abe_, you will direct us to the Syndicate headquarters, where you will take us to your superior. You will then pull whatever strings necessary to get us in. Understood?"

The young woman gulped. Her heart was pounding in her throat. She hated being in cars. Hated it. For the most part, she could handle it, but there was that lurking fear… and it was clearly present in her eyes as she pressed herself into the back of the seat, hands no longer aiming the gun at Mello, but clutching it like it was some kind of security blanket. "Y-you don't even get it… I'm not even a part of the Syndicate! Not officially, anyway! I'm just helping out!"

"You think that matters to me, you little harlot?" Mello snarled, looking positively evil.

Abe gulped, inching away from the malicious blond in the seat next to her. The two men behind her were too shocked to do anything. (And besides, Mello was driving the car. Even if they did pull something, they'd probably end up having a wreck and killing themselves.) "I… I understand…"

"And make sure your thugs cooperate, as well," Mello added with a grunt, keeping the gun pointed at the redheaded young woman. "If they so much as blink, the insides of their skulls will see the light of day."

"Y-yessir…"

Mello scowled as he drove, keeping the gun towards Abe. This was too easy… child's play, really. Hijacking a couple of vehicles and threatening the leader at gunpoint and between two speeding cars? It didn't make much sense. Abe shouldn't have cracked so easily.

_Then again, _he thought sourly, _it's probably just because she's a damn broad. They're always getting scared at the worst times. Never any good in pressurized situations._ Even so, he had to wonder… what was it that was frightening her so? She was a hardened criminal, from what he knew (he'd picked up on a few lines of her speech and her general posture and demeanor—it was easy to tell she'd been around the block a few times); she shouldn't have been so unnerved.

"T-turn left ahead," she choked out.

Mello did so. "If you're leading us into a trap, you'll be just another obituary to read in the evening papers."

Abe nodded vigorously. "I'm not lying! There's no trap! I promise!!"

The blond-haired male smirked. Even so, he was prepared for quite a bit. Being a Wammy's genius generally did that.

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The rest of the drive to the headquarters went smoothly, and finally, Mello pulled into an old parking garage beneath an abandoned hotel. The second the key was removed from the ignition, Abe threw open the door and collapsed onto the pavement. A retching sound could be heard, and Mello leapt out of the vehicle (climbing over through Abe's side) just in time to watch the contents of her stomach splatter on the ground. He pressed the barrel of his gun to the back of her head and offered her his other hand. After a few seconds of coughing and shaking silently in the aftermath of her sickness, Abe grasped Mello's gloved hand and pulled herself up, not even fighting against the gun. She weakly stood there, glaring half-heartedly at him as Matt joined them, keeping his own pair of handguns pointed at Two-Bit and Ramen. Two-Bit, of course, had his brass knuckles on, ready for action in the event that one of their captors slipped up. With that, Mello turned to Two-Bit and Ramen. "One of you, call your superior. Tell him you're here, and what the situation is. Have no more than three of them meet us here."

Reluctantly, Ramen pulled out a dirty cell phone and spoke a few quick things into the receiver. Mere minutes later, a large bald man in a pinstriped suit, a tall, slender brunette woman, and a short, dark-haired man with a thin mustache came strolling nonchalantly into the parking garage, hands raised in submission. "Greetings," called the mustachioed man, a wry smirk on his round face. "Excellent work. It's been a while since anyone's outsmarted Lina."

Abe whimpered ever so slightly; Mello and Matt inferred instantly that Abe was really this Lina of which they spoke. "Our pleasure, sir," Matt called back with a wink and a dashing smile.

Mello rolled his eyes at his friend's behavior. Now was not the time to appear so _happy_.

Piers gazed calmly at Mello and Matt. "Now, how did you know to kidnap Miss Lina, here, if I may be so bold?"

_So polite,_ Mello thought disdainfully. _What a clichéd front. And what a clichéd-looking mob boss… _It was true; the chubby-faced man with the mustache looked every inch the mafia leader, from his crisp grey suit to his pencil-thin mustache to his round face to his dark grey-brown comb-over. "Her excessive arrogance and cockiness, for one," Mello grunted, nudging his captive with his gun in irritation. "Second, she mentioned that she gets what she wants. A careless error on her part." Lina/Abe squirmed in Mello's grasp, grunting in frustration. "Third, she was calling all the shots before Two-Bit, Ed, and Ramen. None of them dared question her, and she did all the talking. It wasn't hard."

"I see. Well done. Please, let me introduce myself," the man said diplomatically as he continued to advance upon the captive group. "My name is Piers Rayne. This lovely woman is Olivia White, and the man to my left is Jack Smitheson."

Mello perked up slightly, instantly on alert. He knew mafia behavior. No one would ever impersonate a leader—and Piers Rayne was renowned as being the head of the Syndicate. No, the mafia was an organization run on a strict code of honesty (as far as dealings and keeping promises) and strict conduct. "No doubt news of us has reached your ears," Mello told Piers. "I'm sure Rod Ross told you everything."

"Of course, of course. Now, I'd like to hear your names, if you don't mind. We've introduced ourselves…" He gestured in a friendly manner to the two beside him and turned his cold gaze back to Mello and Matt. His smile did not reach his eyes. "It's only polite, don't you think?"

_Polite, my ass, _Mello thought to himself. _It's a matter of honesty. No one else but us would know our "names;" it would be ridiculous for anyone else to introduce himself as Mello. This is only insurance and proof of our identity. _"Mello."

"Matt." The young man with the goggles smiled again. "Aliases, of course. Can't just give our real names to the new Kira committee."

Piers froze in place.

"Yes, Mr. Rayne," Mello said coolly. "We know that Kira is somewhere in your midst. Why else haven't any of the Syndicate died, even the lowest ranking men?"

"I see," Rayne murmured. "Ross told me of your intelligence, but I admit, I never expected you to have figured that out…"

"Don't worry about it," Matt said cheerily. "Secret's safe with us. Now that we know, you pretty much have to keep us with you, right?"

Piers paused for a few moments. "That's one way of doing things… I suppose. Well, in that case… welcome to the Syndicate, boys." He made a quick gesture with his hand, and five men with what appeared to be machine guns pointed at Matt and Mello stepped out from behind various pillars in the otherwise empty parking garage. Mello glanced coolly at the gunmen. Really, it wasn't as though he hadn't been expecting that. In fact, he'd planned for it. It didn't matter. They were getting to meet with Piers Rayne; what were a few extra guards into the equation (at this stage, anyway)? "Let's go inside and chat…"

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(1—_Neko-te_, or "iron fingernails," were sometimes used by ninja or kunoichi in the… Edo (?) period in Japan. They're small, but sharp, attachments to the fingernails that one could use to cut bonds or attack an opponent—many things. Very useful. But they can show up easily, hence why Matt painted over his nails.)

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Well, this update was a little quicker! Sorry, it's not my best work. And it's a bit short. Not only am I not good with high-speed action scenes (that is, scenes where there's no actual fighting going on), but I have a terrible headache and I'm just thinking "you know what? Let's just type the bloody chapter and get it over with." So I did. Reviews would be appreciated in the extreme.

Also, something fun for you guys... I made a quiz on my Quizilla account that you might want to check out. Which Character from Jizen Keiji are You? Link is below; just remove all the spaces.

http : / / www . quizilla . com / quizzes / 8588518 / which - character - from - jizen - keiji - are - you


	11. Reflections

**_Disclaimer: _Death Note _is not mine._**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy; **_helped by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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Wow, a record low number of reviews, considering how long it's been out and how many people have read it. Ah, well. School started and all. Don't blame yah. Anyway, I wrote this on inspiration yesterday and figured that heck, maybe I should post while I can... I'm going back to school tomorrow and I may not have time to write much anymore (don't worry; if it kills me, I'll finish this story... but it may take a while). I have a killer class list... and about 30-some books to read... most of them being old novels or philosophy-type books. Ugh. I'd enjoy them in moderation, but that's too freaking much for me. I'm only a freshman!!! Come on... *sigh* Well, here's hoping this is a good chapter...

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CHAPTER 11 - REFLECTIONS

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Ansel Alessandro stood at the window of the top story in the abandoned hotel. Perhaps that wasn't the wisest thing to do; it was a condemned building, after all. But the dangers that accompanied it lent him a sort of morbid pleasure, a strange kind of pride stemming from the fact that he was doing something reckless, and would live through it, just to spite everyone.

A manic grin spread across his face. _Just think… two months, at most. Two months, and the student will surpass the master. L, you are not so powerful as you think. You will fall into my grasp, and you will become little more than a dog on a chain. You will do as I say… every last order._

It wasn't as though A was in this merely for the knowledge of surpassing L. No… though that was ample incentive. No, he wanted more stability in L's role. A person of L's power and reputation needed to be always right, always accurate. L needed to always win. And with one person in charge, there was too much room to slip up. The current system was too flawed. A small committee, headed by one person… that was in order. A wanted L's name to live on, not L himself. The real L, the person L, not the persona, was foolish and arrogant. A had to prove that to him.

A knock sounded on the door, strong and confident, but a little hesitant. A turned his cold gaze toward the door. "Yes?"

Slowly, the door creaked open to reveal a bald-headed man in a pinstriped suit.

"Ah, Mr. Smitheson," A greeted him cordially.

Smitheson merely nodded. He did not like A. To him, A was a genius, but cruel and cunning. Too cunning. There was something about those hard, purple eyes that was terribly unnerving, and somehow predatory, as though A gave the impression that he was about to attack… despite the friendly smile painted on his face. But to Smitheson, it was obvious—it was only a mask. Something about A was very _off_… "Mr. Andrews, sir. Mr. Rayne has in his custody now a pair of young men by the names Mello and Matt. They captured Lina Virtanen and three metal-men and have clearly stated that Kira is within the Syndicate."

A paused. "I see. I assume they gave you aliases?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have we any information already?"

The bald man nodded again, curtly. "Yes. They met with Lina once and she interviewed them. Everything seems to check out; we received a telephone call from Rod Ross, also, vouching for them."

"Hm…" A mused over this for a few moments, turning back to the window. "I see. Perhaps later I shall meet with these two young men. For now, have Piers talk to them and see if he notices anything. If he deems them to be worthy, have him do as he sees fit. They deserve better than underling status."

Smitheson nodded. "Yes, sir." Politely, he took his leave, and A grinned at his reflection. "Finally, someone skilled. Perhaps they will be useful in cornering L…"

A low chuckling could be heard. "Huhuhuhuhuu…"

"What _is_ it, Gukku?" A asked, annoyed.

The bovine-skulled shinigami floated towards "his" human. "I get it now why Ryuk thought this place was so much fun! Huhuu, this it is really is a rye!"

A sighed, willing himself not to lose his temper—an easy thing to do with Gukku. He turned to face the shinigami, violet eyes shaded by his black hair, creating a rather evil-looking effect. "I suppose you mean that this situation, whatever it is that you find amusing, is a _riot_."

"Oh, yeah, that one!"

The former successor sighed and said nothing to Gukku. He didn't even bother asking why the shinigami laughed so; he knew that he wouldn't tell him. Gukku was like that—but perhaps he would give something away later on…? He _was_ rather stupid… So A would have to wait and hope that whatever it was Gukku found funny was useful and would be revealed later…

Meanwhile, Gukku was still laughing. He remembered those Matt and Mello kids—they'd been living near the L-guy when he'd tried to find anyone with a grudge against the detective (and a possibility of actually being able to use the Death Note against L). Those two humans had been particularly distracting—they were so much fun to watch! But now, two of L's successors were within A's grasp. He could use them to get close to L…

That is, he could have, _if_ he'd known who they were. A had an excellent memory; if at all he knew the two young men, he would have exploited their connection to the unorthodox detective immediately. As it was, A obviously had no idea that they were connected to L in any way, shape, or form.

_Ah, well, _Gukku thought with a wicked grin. _More fun for me!_

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August 4, 2011

Days passed. Keiko and Lawliet were both growing increasingly more irritated with their captives—Keiko even more so than her husband, for she knew without doubt that Light and Misa were innocent… _this _time. As it was, Lawliet refused to admit the possibility of their having been involved, and therefore would not allow the chains to be removed.

Inevitably, with the chains in place, they were not free to so much as talk freely… and Keiko was beginning to miss her husband and children. Though Lawliet was with her much of the time, he'd slipped into his "detective mode," and was obviously not coming out of that anytime soon. It would take quite a bit of time to get him _out_ of that state, now that he'd been in it for so long. It had been over a week since he'd referred to her as "tenshi." She hadn't known how much she'd miss that particular pet name.

As for Aimi and Alex's absence, well… Keiko missed them terribly. She began to worry about them constantly, wondering what they were doing, how summer school was going for them, if they missed their parents at all… if they were happy… Correspondence by email helped, but it didn't convey anything properly. And besides, if she knew Alex, he'd try to brush off any discontent and keep a stiff upper lip… pretend everything was just swell… Meanwhile, Aimi's own missives, void of feeling, hardly indicated any cheer or frustration. Keiko was virtually cut off from them in an emotional sense. It had been over a month since they'd all four been together as a family, owing to the fact that Lawliet had been gone for two weeks before the twins had been sent to Wammy's, and Keiko and L had decided to have their own little reunion, rather than being together, the four of them. Had they known what the future had held…

Lawliet noticed his wife's unhappiness and did attempt to cheer her up, but with two constant spectators, he couldn't do a lot. Of course, the "spectators" were the root cause of the despondency. Moreover, Misa, finding the Kira investigation rather boring (and not really having the skill or patience to sort through the massive amounts of paperwork, reports, and other informational files), did not take part in the work, and grew restless easily. If she'd been able to sit still and simply text her friends, read magazines, or something _quiet_ for more than three hours, it might not have been so bad. But Misa kept involving herself by exclaiming at intervals how there was nothing to do, and for heaven's sake, they had a lot of stamina to be doing such tedious work for so long. Lawliet, irritated, had more or less ordered her to leave the room… which meant that Keiko had to, as well. Keiko, therefore, couldn't do near as much work as she'd originally anticipated doing. Useless again. Instead, she spent half of her time trying to entertain Misa. And since Misa didn't object, Keiko figured that she might put the blonde to work; so, in effort to do something useful, they began a thorough cleaning of the entire house.

The house was in a completely immaculate state after a week. Again, they were left with nothing to do. Nothing to do, that is, until Keiko suggested that they start baking a stockpile of cakes and sweets for Lawliet. Owing to the amount of food he would eat in a given time and how quickly each of the foods prepared would spoil or grow stale, there was only so much they could cook. When they could no longer cook, Keiko finally resorted to _talking_ with Misa.

All she learned was that Misa, while admirably cheerful, was rather shallow. Nothing she hadn't already known. It wasn't long before Misa and Keiko were both at their wits' end.

Exactly sixteen days had passed since Keiko had seen her children. Misa, seeing her melancholic mood, had suggested that they all watch a movie and that she and _Ryuzaki_ could hold hands, and maybe that would cheer her up a little. Keiko, apathetic about any form of recreation, by this point, agreed and Misa had eagerly tugged her through the house to find "the boys," to whom she immediately made known her plans.

"Mm, no…" Lawliet droned in his monotonous voice, not even turning around from the computer. _And he wonders why I sometimes doubt his affection,_ Keiko thought sourly. It wasn't that she currently had any misgivings about their relationship—she hadn't in over four years. But she couldn't help but be a little irked at his robotic state. "There is work to be done… Now, Amane-san, could you please occupy yourself in some other manner…?"

Keiko had had enough by this point. "Damn it all, I'm not her babysitter, Ryuzaki!" she cried, furious and fed-up. "There is _nothing_ to bloody well do anymore! We can't go outside; we can't clean the house cuz it's already spotless; we can't cook anything else or it'll spoil before we'll eat it; we've already talked ourselves silly… We are very literally bored to tears!" She stormed off in a huff, Misa trotting behind.

"Not for long," Lawliet muttered to himself, not even batting an eye.

Light glared at the detective. "Okay… this was bad enough back in Tokyo, but you and Keiko are so much closer, now. You can't keep ignoring her like this."

"I'm not, Light-kun. We shall watch a movie tonight, if only to placate Keiko and Amane-san. However, it has taken much longer than I'd anticipated for my solution to their boredom to arrive…"

Light raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"You shall see for yourself tomorrow afternoon."

He sighed heavily, running a hand exasperatedly through his brown tresses. "I hope they can survive until then, or else we're going to be brutally murdered…"

* * *

Alex sighed. He missed his parents… mostly his mother. His mother, it seemed, was the only one who really understood him… and… he really wanted to be assured that he was loved and needed. To be told that he was just as important to his parents as Aimi was—heck, even the reason why he was living at Wammy's would've sufficed! He'd grown weary of feeling unwanted and playing second fiddle for almost three weeks, now. Not that he'd actually come to that conclusion. His six years' experience merely told him that there was a dull ache in his chest whenever he was alone. While he'd manifested his emotions on baseless assumptions, to him, they were logical, well-thought-out, and completely realistic. And thus, he began to grow increasingly more depressed. And yet, he continued to hold his emotions in. He couldn't be caught crying by his friends… For all he was only six years old, mentally, he was as competent as any average thirteen-year-old. But he was not number one. Far from it. He was only _average_ in his class. What's more, he was struggling in his mathematics class, still over long division. The rest of the class had moved on, having passed the division exam, but not Alex. He'd failed. So perhaps he was a little glad that his parents had not found this out… If his father—the world's number one detective—and his mother—the youngest inspector in NPA-history and only person (that he knew of) who'd surpassed L (even if it was only once)—ever found out that he'd failed a simple math test, well… he didn't want to think of the consequences. He wanted so badly to live up to his parents' example, to prove that he was worthy of being L's son, to just fit in with his family of _number-ones_…

It didn't help that he'd just been called "a normal kid" that morning by Zigzag, a five-year-old boy in his math class. In Wammy's, that was probably the worst insult one could give or receive. It didn't help that Alex was L's son. He was expected to be every bit as brilliant as his parents. But what if he just couldn't?! What if he wasn't smart enough, strong enough, clever enough, to live up to the L-Keiko standard…?

He was alone in the room (he'd been given a room of his own when he'd come over, a privilege no one else in Wammy's received—and therefore another bone of contention betwixt himself and the rest of the Wammy's kids). Slowly, Alex got up from his bed and crossed the room to the mirror on the wall. He gazed at his reflection, honestly wondering if he was even his parents' son. He obviously hadn't inherited their brains… maybe…

He gazed at his reflection. Maybe he'd been adopted! That would be a wonderful explanation for everything… it would mean that he didn't _have_ to live up to everyone's expectations! He'd be given an excuse to not be good enough…

Alex stared at himself. There he stood, ninety-four centimeters tall… the shortest boy in his class… dark black-brown hair. Almond-shaped eyes. Tan skin. Short, chubby fingers. A plump little body still cushioned with baby fat.

He looked nothing like his parents. Sure, he looked Japanese, but that meant nothing. Most native Japanese people shared his eye shape, hair color, and tan skin. It would've been an easy sham to pull, insisting that he, Alex, was their son. But weren't twins supposed to look alike? Aimi was practically the spitting image of her father (albeit with her mother's nose and smile, and her eyes weren't quite as big as her father's)… and he looked like the opposite of her!

"I knew it," he muttered. "I _am_ adopted."

* * *

Twenty days since the anti-social sheep (a.k.a. Near) had arrived at the orphanage… fifteen days since Scout had really spoken to him. That is, fifteen days since she'd seen that perverted little display with the finger puppets. She would only exchange any words with him when necessary: asking what he'd like for dinner and so forth. His own tension was noticeable. Not that she cared. She knew that she'd caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. It was time he knew how much she absolutely loathed him…

* * *

Near, on the other hand, was not so eager to maintain the furious rigidity that existed between them. For the first time in his life, he was a little uneasy about a strained relationship. It was odd—Scout was probably the closest person to him… not even Roger or Watari knew that much about him. And now, Scout hated him.

This emotion… it couldn't have been called remorse or regret; he hadn't done anything. And yet, there was an alien guilt that made his stomach feel heavy, and a strange kind of anxiety that made him just slightly nervous whenever she arrived. He'd dismissed it as fear that she'd strike him, but after the first two days, he had to rethink this. Scout had greater control than that. So what was he feeling…? More importantly, how could he get rid of it…?

After three days of feeling this way, he'd decided to ignore his own feelings. They'd never led him anywhere good before; they were merely a hindrance to work. But after two whole weeks of these dizzying bursts of natural chemicals in his body, he finally turned to his computer and set of encyclopedias for an answer to the problem.

Six hours. It had taken him six whole hours to find anything remotely helpful…

_"Adrenaline is a body's natural response to a stressful circumstance, most commonly associated with a "fight or flight" situation. However, this hormone can be released into the bloodstream when triggered also by anxiety or even certain thoughts. Also known as epinephrine, adrenaline is secreted by the adrenal glands above the kidneys, though norepinephrine is also released with the adrenaline. Norepinephrine is a neurotransmitter, and research has shown that when taken with serotonin, it can help treat depression. However, research has also shown that people suffering from mania have excessive levels of norepinephrine in their bodies. In conjunction with adrenaline, norepinephrine, if not "worked off" after released, will cause jitteriness and temporary insomnia."_

Near stared at the page. So, being in Scout's presence caused him stress…? He could've ascertained that for himself, for it was rather obvious. But perhaps it explained a bit of the strange feelings. It was only stress… that was all.

He could cope with stress. It would pass. Scout wouldn't be around him forever.

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_Haha, thank you, _**ActionFry**_, for the "anti-social sheep" idea! XD I couldn't help but use it… hope you don't mind! __Reviews are awesome!!! PLEEZ??_


	12. Battle of the Sexes

**_Disclaimer: _Death Note _is not mine._**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy; **_helped by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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**WARNING:** Chapter content includes language, violence, and innuendos.

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CHAPTER 12 - BATTLE OF THE SEXES

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Matt sighed, puffing out a cloud of cigarette smoke with an air of satisfaction. He allowed himself to fall back a few inches to lean against the concrete wall of the abandoned hotel as he stood on the balcony of their room. "Things seem to be going well, eh, buddy?" Their last mission had gone so successfully, he'd dyed his hair royal blue in celebration. He turned to his blond-haired companion, only to see a scowl painting Mello's face. "What's with you? You got a face like a wet weekend, mate!"

Mello said nothing for a few seconds, instead, opting to remain in his sulky, slumped-over position in the plastic deck chair.

"It's fine if you don't want to tell me," Matt added quietly, turning to look out over the lights of London as they lay sprawled out beneath them in the night.

A sigh could be heard, and Mello stood to lean against the concrete wall, facing away from Matt. "It's too simple. There's got to be more to this Kira puzzle than Piers is letting on."

"Well, that's easy enough to catch!" Matt exclaimed, laughing jovially. "And here, I thought you were all upset over something!"

There followed something of a pause, and Mello sighed again. "Another thing I don't get is why Keiko hasn't tried to get back in touch with us. L has to have discovered that the Syndicate's behind this. And yet, we've heard nothing from them. L hasn't even persisted in ordering us back to Wammy's, either…"

"Hm…" Matt hummed meditatively, taking another drag on his cigarette. "Yeah, that was a little weird. Maybe he's… indisposed?"

"How?" Mello shot back. "It makes no sense. There's something up. Something he doesn't want anyone knowing about. And he's also trying to protect us. Like he's acting as a barrier, so that no information passes either way…"

Matt shrugged. "I guess that makes sense, but what the hell would he be hiding? Come on."

"That's what doesn't make sense…" Mello glared stolidly out over the glow of the city, tucking his blond hair behind his ears as the wind blew it about his face. "I should call Keiko and ask about it, but I doubt that'll do any good." He'd already called her five times that day, each time receiving no response.

"Call from a pay phone," Matt suggested lazily. "Classic trick."

"She won't pick up if she doesn't recognize the number," Mello shot back. "But if I were to use someone else's phone…"

"Like who?" Matt wondered. "Seriously, we can't use Near's, because he'd figure it out."

"So? I'm not scared of that pajama-wearing limp-*¢&."

Matt snorted his amusement at that. "True. But we'll save him as a last resort." They thought for a few moments. "We don't know anyone else… We can't use L's number, or Watari's, Roger's, or the orphanage's, because they're pretty much infinitely secure…"

"We can get in touch through a computer," Mello suggested quietly. "If you can hack into the CIA's database, you can get into Keiko's laptop."

"Ye-e-e-e-eah," he finally said, inhaling some of the clean night air before stomping his cigarette butt into the concrete. "But I'd rather not. I'll bet you anything L's set that thing up so it's even more secure than the CIA…" Mello turned to glare at Matt. He realized then that he didn't have much of a chance in the matter, and sighed. "Sure. Whatever you say, buddy." Honestly… For all that Mello was his best friend, Matt was beginning to feel a little _used_. He gave a sardonic chuckle. "You really need to find a girl, Mel… relieve some of your tension."

Mello said nothing immediately, but Matt noticed that his frown deepened significantly. "I'm going for a walk," he finally grumbled, turning to let himself back into their room and to the hallway.

Now, it was Matt's time to sigh. "You're welcome…"

Mello stalked wordlessly through the halls of the abandoned hotel, munching occasionally on a chocolate bar as he went. He really didn't know what was bugging him… it was much more than Keiko's lack of communication on the whole Kira issue… Something… some strange niggling sensation in the back of his mind…

He didn't know what to say or think, but something was very wrong…

His instincts told him that it might be the heart of the entire Kira plot, but he hadn't the slightest shred of evidence to prove that there should even be suspicion of impending danger. But even so, Mello remained on-edge. He couldn't ignore what his senses were telling him.

But he couldn't do anything about it, either.

Or maybe it was cabin fever? He and Matt had been virtual prisoners in the hotel for the past fortnight, owing to the fact that they had yet to prove themselves as trustworthy to the Syndicate. And they were getting off easily, considering their ties to Ross and the American mafia—they were allowed outside to actively participate in raids, but only with the other Syndicate members.

Mello finally made his way down the stairs (the elevators had been removed) to the lobby, and down the hall to the swimming pool, which was little more than an indoor hole in the floor, lined with blue tiles. His blue eyes stared down the concrete pit as though it had done him some wrong, and he snapped off a section of his chocolate bar with his teeth, listening to the _snap!_ as it echoed throughout the empty room.

The squeak of the door behind him alerted him to the presence of another person in the room. "Couldn't sleep?"

Mello turned to see Lina slowly strolling across the room to the opposite side. The city's glow streamed through the windows to highlight her curves, and Mello turned away with a scowl. "Does it matter?"

She shrugged. She'd gotten over the whole kidnapping deal a week ago. Being in the mafia taught you how to recover quickly, if nothing else. "I couldn't, either."

Silence hung in the air. "Can I have some chocolate?" she asked sweetly.

Mello turned to glare at her through one eye, and she gave a single laugh. "Hah… I'll take that as a 'no.'" Another awkward pause followed, wherein Mello ignored Lina. "Why do you eat so much chocolate, anyway?"

"Does it matter?"

"Is that all you say?" A sly smile crossed her face, and she grinned evilly at him. "Are you gay?"

"If you're trying to get me to say 'does it matter,' I'm smarter than that."

"But you dodged the question," she pointed out, grinning triumphantly, now. "So you _are_ gay?"

Mello sighed heavily. _This dumb bird…_ "No. And what's it to you, anyway? Are you so desperate that you're trying to get a date from the man who kidnapped you? Or are you just a masochist?"

"Are you a sadist?" she snapped back without skipping a beat.

"Does it matter? I won't go out with you, if that's what you're getting at."

Lina's smile grew wider. "You flatter yourself. You think I would actually _ask_ YOU for a date? Don't make me laugh." Mello's gaze turned to peer at her cautiously from the side. "First, if I wanted a date, which I don't, I would come up with some scheme to either charm you into asking me, or I'd blackmail you. I don't ask guys out; they ask _me_ when I want them to. Second, I wouldn't date _you_ if you were the last man alive."

Mello smirked and bit off another hunk of chocolate. "You make a point of saying that you won't date me. Sounds like you're either trying to convince yourself that you don't want me, or you're trying to cover your tracks by repeatedly saying it."

_Now_, she frowned. Mello watched with amusement as her hands curled into fists. "You cocky bastard…" A loud _BANG!_ sounded, and a crater suddenly appeared in the wall behind Mello. He turned to face her fully, a little surprised that she'd fired at him. She'd missed him on purpose, too; he could tell.

A wide grin now twisted his face. "Ha. Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Don't piss off a woman with a gun, Mello!" she spat venomously, eyes hardened as she aimed the weapon with both arms.

Mello chuckled. She really had the audacity to aim a gun at him? Oh, who was she kidding?! "Go ahead," he challenged her loudly, standing before her plainly, confidently. "Shoot me. Kill me. I'll even make it easier…" He boldly stepped up close to her, so that the barrel of her gun was only a few feet from his chest. "There. Not even a child could miss at this distance."

"First you presume to think that I would be attracted to an arrogant prick like you, and then, you insult me by doubting my aim! You've crossed the line, Mello," she hissed furiously, cocking the gun.

Mello did not move. He just stood there, waiting for her to make the next move. Lina began to tremble, and her furious expression only deepened into absolute rage as she peered into his eyes. The crunch of the chocolate between his teeth made her twitch. Ages passed. Centuries, eons, even. And finally, five minutes later, she lowered the gun, sighing heavily.

At this, Mello smirked, giving a snort of mirth. Of course she couldn't do it. She was a woman, and soft, at that. She may have been able to put on a good show, a plausible mask of pretense, but she could not, would not, kill.

Seeing that was the last straw for Lina. As she moved toward the door…

Mello didn't even see her coming. Her gun was down, and so was his guard. He'd assumed that she'd just up and leave, but no… Quick as a flash, she skirted before him and raised her knee faster than he could blink. Before he knew it, Mello was crumpled on the ground, nursing the spot between his legs and trying not to whimper.

Lina laughed loudly. "Ha! I win, pretty boy. Wear a cup, next time." And leaving Mello in agonizing pain, she left the pool room, smiling brightly as she made her way to the lobby to inform the guards that the earlier gunshot was nothing to worry about.

* * *

Keiko sighed. The chain that connected her to Misa clinked softly as she shifted, crossing her arms under her chest. There was a subtle difference between this move, however, and her typical, furious version—then, she crossed her arms over her chest, signaling her anger. This time, she wasn't going on the offensive, but attempting to protect herself by clutching her stomach, as though to lock herself in, retreating within herself. And it wasn't as though she truly believed that Lawliet's love for her was beginning to fade; no, it was more like his affection was dying. Granted, he'd never been truly comfortable with public displays of affection—not really.

But then, she thought back…

Back when they'd first been dating, he'd kissed her cheek playfully a few times in front of the task force… and once, he'd kissed her very passionately in front of everyone, after she'd been gone for a day without notifying him…

And actually getting married before her family was kind of a big step for him.

But now…? It was like her status had abased from wife to mere coworker, or worse…

Employee.

Keiko wouldn't have minded that so much a) in front of people who didn't know Lawliet's identity or of their marriage; b) if it had been discussed prior to the actual downgrade; or c) there was an actual reason, but the fact of the matter was, Keiko was starting to worry. For years, she'd been prone to self-esteem issues, and he was not helping matters any by pretending to be indifferent.

But she would not complain. No, not one peep out of her. Keiko refused to own up to her feelings, at least, at present; she, of all people, knew how important casework was to him, and especially this new Kira case. That was a deliberate attack on his pride and reputation, and Lawliet's own childish nature begged for him to defend his honor.

Keiko wondered if this was merely a temporary phase of marital neglect (and hopefully it was—either that, or a minor dispute that could soon be settled) rather than possibly signs of actual disinterest. But it _was_ if the latter, what could she do?

Her actions depended on the root problem. Keiko searched her memory, desperate to find a time where a turning point or specific catalyst was visible. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. But the more she thought, the more confused she became. Was it when she stopped consciously going out of her way to "beautify" herself, when she stopped actively making herself sexually available to him…? She'd assumed that he would approach her… It didn't really seem like Lawliet to deny himself on her account, unless she made it clear that she didn't desire his physical attentions at a given time (and those times were few and far between)…

Unless…

Keiko's eyes widened. _Oh, no… After I got my job at the Met, I started coming home more tired and worn-out… and I didn't exactly tell him that I didn't want him, but maybe I hinted it… or perhaps…_

_No!_

_Perhaps I'm not as FUN as I used to be…! Oh, anything but that, please!! I want him to want me! _

She paused. _Are you sure the problem is really with your sex life? Come on. It's not like he's going to try and find someone else to fulfill his lust. What if he's, well, cooling down…? Doesn't want that as much anymore…?_

_… Are you kidding me?_

_Good point._

_But at least I don't have to worry about infidelity from him. He's too paranoid to go out and find a random woman to do anything with, and there aren't too many women who actually know him. Besides, I'm the only woman I know who actually finds him attractive._

_Amy._

Keiko's heart dropped. _Or even worse… what if Mizuki was right?! What if he was bi all along, and now, he wants a GUY?!_

She took a deep breath. _Calm down, Keiko. Calm down. There are a couple of things you need to realize. One, that you're probably jumping to conclusions, AGAIN. You need to talk to Lawliet before you go assuming things with no basis for suspicion. Two, remember who you are and what you're capable of. Not only would there be at least a noticeable change on his part—for you, anyway—but if he is cheating on you (unlikely) or is thinking about it, you can beat the living snot out of him._

_I don't know, he beat me pretty good in our last spar…_

_That's beside the point. There's a lot to be said for murderous intent…_

_Stop it, Keiko. You know for a fact that he's just being subdued because of Light and Misa. His feelings haven't changed in the slightest. Stop. Worrying. Now._

Her thoughts were interrupted, however, as Lawliet's black hair brushed her cheek, and she twitched at the sudden closeness. So lost in thought was she, she'd forgotten that they were all there in the living room watching _Roman Holiday_ at Misa's request (she'd wanted to watch a slew of other movies, mostly chick flicks, none of which Keiko or Lawliet had any interest in seeing, and had thus not purchased ever). "Are you all right, Keiko?" he asked softly in her ear, so that neither Light nor Misa could hear.

_He must've seen my expression or something…_ she thought, and her face relaxed.

"You're going to work yourself up into a fit if you keep this up," he whispered, one dexterous hand reaching over to brush her hair gently. "Do I need to hand them over to Watari for a few minutes?"

Keiko shook her head and inhaled, but paused, holding her breath as she debated whether or not to address the issue right then and there. "I'm fine. It can wait for a while."

He inhaled slowly, reaching over surreptitiously to enclose her smaller hand in his; she twitched at this sudden contact. "If I believed that, I would not have said anything in the first place." His warm breath ruffled her dark hair. "Do you miss Aimi and Alex?"

"That goes without saying," she retorted. It was very true. She missed them terribly. But it wasn't just her own feelings. Alex's emails kept subtly hinting that something was wrong—mostly because nothing bad was reported. No, his missives always were bright and cheery. Everything was fine and dandy! And that was a major clue that he was upset about something or other. Even Aimi was starting to show hints of longing for her father, no matter how much she might deny it. Keiko knew that they needed their parents. They were only six… and they'd not been told the reason for the sudden separation. Moreover, Keiko was starting to go crazy, aching to see her children.

There was a pause. "There is something else that troubles you?"

Keiko didn't answer verbally. Instead, she hung her head slightly and turned away, releasing his hand. Lawliet lifted his other hand, the one attached to Light via the handcuffs, to his lips to chew on his thumbnail as he thought. A large part of him wanted to just hold her and assure her of his love for her—surely that was the issue! He knew he'd not been as affectionate toward her as of late. But the more tactical side of him said that she'd be more surprised if he did nothing now and simply revealed the surprise to her tomorrow, as planned…

_Then again, Keiko could very well infer that either my feelings are, in fact, waning, if I say nothing now, OR that I do have something planned for later. Considering her current state, there is an eighty-nine percent chance that she will assume the former, despite knowing that such is not the case._

_Given that she will most likely decide that my love is fading (and in order to keep her surprise a secret), I have little choice other than to actually assure her otherwise._

He watched as her eyes remained locked on Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn on the screen as they were at the Mouth of Truth. Timing his move carefully, he sat back against the couch, keeping his feet up on the cushions, and slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, just as Audrey Hepburn shrieked at Peck's "lost hand" trick. She twitched, and a tiny smile spread across her features as she leaned into him. So, he'd known what was troubling her… Not that it was a big shock. He was L, after all. Keiko allowed her head to fall comfortably onto Lawliet's shoulder, and for a few minutes, it felt like they were the room's only occupants. Keiko began to feel a warm sensation in her cheeks, and she couldn't help but smile in the afterglow of the sudden show of affection towards her.

_I really did get lucky when I met Lawliet,_ she reflected then. _He knows what I'm thinking, how to cheer me up, how to make me feel better… and he never lets me feel unloved…_

_Really, how could I have even thought about doubting him?_

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Silly Keiko. Lighten up. Then again, maybe Mello should, too! Haha. Hey, there will DEFINITELY be more Near/Scout stuff next time (and MAYBE some Alex and Aimi stuff, but we'll see), so sit tight! My muse ran out on me after the Mello scene... so... yeah. That's why there's only fluff following that. Hope you liked it, though!! REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE MELLO/LINA SCENE--I'M NOT GOOD AT THAT KIND OF STUFF!!! Thus, I'm self-conscious about it...


	13. My Girl

_Haha! Didn't expect me to update this quickly, didja? :) I hope this is good! Thanks so much for the reviews; if I could, I'd give lots of strawberry shortcake and peanut butter ice cream to you all!! (Not together, of course... uh... those just sound good separately...)_

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_Disclaimer:_ Neath Dote_, I mean, ah, _Deate Noth_, I mean... ah... I don't own _Death Note.

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy_, _**_helped by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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CHAPTER 13 - MY GIRL

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Bills.

Keiko finally had something to do, but paying the bills wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind. Granted, it was better than nothing, but it still left Misa with no occupation whatsoever. She'd finally opted to listen to some music and read a magazine.

"Hey, Keiko…?"

"Mmm?" She didn't even look up from her work.

"How good is Ryuzaki?"

At this, she paused. "How do you mean…?"

Misa rolled over so that she lay on her stomach, facing Keiko. She tugged the headphones from her ears and blinked curiously. "I mean in bed. How good is he? You only got pregnant once."

Keiko rolled her eyes, deciding not to tell that she was currently pregnant. "It's called a contraceptive, Misa. I'm not getting stuck with three dozen kids."

"Ooooh," she said knowingly, grinning mischievously. "So that means he's really good, ri-i-i-i-ight?"

Keiko, supremely glad that they'd decided to work in the living room instead of upstairs in the office with Lawliet and Light, averted her gaze to the floor, blushing. "Yeah…" She couldn't help but smile a little as she admitted it, recalling the last time they'd been together.

Misa's eyes widened in surprise, but she giggled girlishly at the response. "I wouldn't have expected that! I mean, has he always been good?"

"Pretty much…"

"Oooh…" Misa thought about this for a few moments. "I don't get it. I didn't think that he would've slept with a bunch of people, you know?"

"He didn't," Keiko admitted, abandoning her bills for a while. "He was a virgin when we started going out."

"Were you?"

Keiko paused here. "No… I wasn't. I'd done it twice with my ex-boyfriend—well, _now_ ex—in the break between our high school graduation and college. And as soon as we got into To-oh, he dumped me." She traced aimless patterns in the carpet as she spoke, wondering at the now-very-dull pain that the memories conjured up. "Ha… that bastard. You know, I'm actually glad that he dumped me, now, because I have someone so much better." She gave a faint smile and shifted the conversation to Misa. "And how is Naoki-kun in bed? I assume that's what you were really getting at…"

Misa paused. "He's okay. He's not bad, but I don't think he really knows what he's doing." She giggled at that. "But I really like him… he's so sweet…"

Keiko shrugged. "You must train him," she said imperiously, affecting a playfully haughty demeanor, like she was issuing a royal decree. Misa laughed. "If you love him that much, then how good he is, at least in _that_ respect, doesn't matter. That can be fixed."

"I guess so," she mused, and fell silent for a few moments. Keiko wondered absently if that was the end of the conversation, and if Misa had really taken anything from it, other than her admission of Lawliet's "skill level."

At length, Keiko returned to paying the bills, but she was interrupted again by Lawliet's voice (at which Misa grinned, and Keiko rolled her eyes). "Keiko…?" His head poked into the room sideways, which made her smile.

"Yeah?"

Light leaned against the doorjamb beside the shaggy-haired detective, grinning profusely. He obviously knew something. Lawliet shuffled into the room and held his index finger to his lips, a huge smile splitting his face in two as the brown-haired young man spoke. "You will _die_ when you see this, Kei-Kei."

"Is that so?" Her eyes widened a bit, rather dubiously, it seemed, and she turned her gaze to Lawliet's. "I won't really die, will I?"

Instantly, he frowned, and dropped to the ground to send his foot flying upward beneath Light's jaw. Light ducked at the last second, much to Lawliet's frustration, but he did not attack again. "Saying such things does not improve my already low opinion of you," he muttered. He turned back to Keiko.

"I suppose I should see what you've got up your sleeve this time," she relented, pushing herself up from the ground and to her feet. "At the least, it'll give us something to do for the next few minutes…"

"Mm, it is my hope that this will entertain you for a longer period than a few minutes," Lawliet informed her, shuffling away and tugging Light behind him.

Intrigued, Keiko followed, Misa close behind. She, too, was eager to see this form of entertainment.

Lawliet halted when they reached the front door, a tiny smile curling his lips upward. Keiko stood there, waiting whatever news it was he would divulge. "Close your eyes," he told her, standing behind her to slip his hands over her face so that she would not peek. Keiko gave a small (albeit nervous) giggle at this, wondering what in the world was going on. What had him so excited?

The sound of a door opening caught her ears, and she felt the warm summer breeze gently blowing against her, ruffling her hair and shirt. The sunshine heated her skin, which would turn a deep tan if she remained out of doors for a few more hours. "What's going on, Ryuu?" she asked suspiciously, moving easily down the front step and down the sidewalk. It was not difficult; nearly seven years of living in the same house had taught her exactly where everything was, and she could find her way about the place relatively easily (if a little more slowly) with her eyes closed.

Misa gasped. "OH MY GOD!!"

Keiko twitched. "Ryuzaki…?!"

He chuckled softly in her ear. "You have no patience. All right…"

His long fingers brushed her cheeks as he pulled back, and Keiko blinked to adjust her eyes to the bright sunlight, only to see it reflected back by the shiny white plastic and chrome of a brand-new custom-built Suzuki Hayabusa motorcycle.

Keiko's jaw dropped open and she stared at the vehicle dumbly. "Huh…?!"

Lawliet, amused, allowed a small smile to cross his face as he watched her slowly take it in. A single helmets hung from the handlebars by the strap, a matching white with silver streaks. Watari stood beside the machine, also smiling at her reaction. A set of keys sparkled in the sun as he held them up for her. But she appeared rather… unaffected… However, Lawliet said nothing. She would eventually come to her senses.

Misa frowned as she gazed at the machine, and finally popped her hip and crossed her arms. "It's not very cute…"

Another few moments of silence passed, and Keiko finally shook her head as she stared at the bike. "It's not _supposed _to be cute… IT'S GORGEOUS!! THANK YOU, RYUU!!" she cried, whirling around and practically leaping onto him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

"Mm, you are welcome, tenshi," he whispered with a quick chuckle as he held her. But she quickly left him to more closely inspect the bike. "I… realize that you cannot yet use it, but it has been in the making for much longer than anticipated. I thought that, since you were so bored, that perhaps seeing it might brighten your spirits."

"When was it supposed to come?" she wondered idly as she stepped slowly around the motorcycle, staring at it almost hungrily.

"Mm, it was supposed to arrive on your birthday, but complications arose, and it was delayed."

"That explains a lot…" she mumbled distractedly as she knelt down beside the bike to scrutinize it carefully. "O-o-o-oh… it's so awesome…"

After a moment, Misa huffed loudly and Keiko finally decided to step away from the vehicle. However, she ignored Misa and headed for Watari. He, too, was treated with a hug of gratitude. "Thank you for helping out on this, Wa-tan!" she said happily.

Again, he chuckled, and handed her the keys. "Why not take it for a test drive?"

Keiko took the keys and sighed. "Um… I'll email you that later, ne?" Despite her obstinacy in the matter of speaking only English (except to Misa, who didn't really understand it very well), she insisted upon saying "ne." To her, "eh" was either Jewish or Canadian, depending on the pronunciation, and to someone Japanese, it sounded rather incomplete.

With a smile, he nodded, but Misa was extremely curious. "Why can't you drive it yet?" she wanted to know, adopting an unintentionally whiney quality to her voice. She'd already chosen a helmet and was ready to go.

A little torn, Keiko turned back to Lawliet, waiting for some kind of cue. He simply stared back at her blankly. "Oh, you're no help," she mumbled, but she grinned anyway. How could she stay mad at him after a) last night when he'd been so sweet to her, and b) he'd gotten her such an amazing gift, despite the fact that she couldn't use it yet. "I don't have my motorcycle license yet," she supplied glibly. It was a good enough excuse, really.

Watari quietly bowed out and made his way back to the orphanage at this point. Keiko waved goodbye to him and turned back to her husband and their guests.

Light spotted Keiko's excuse easily. "As if he'd care about your having a motorcycle license," he said, crossing his arms and staring at her curiously. "That's not why you can't drive it."

"Your point?" Keiko retorted. "Try and make me tell you exactly why I can't."

Light thought about it for a few more minutes as Keiko and Misa went back to inspect the bike. A little reluctantly, Light followed, forced to by Lawliet, who wanted to observe every minute expression on Keiko's delighted face as she examined her gift. _Seeing as how Ryuzaki brought it up first,_ Light mused silently, _and since Keiko wasn't mad about it—ha, she'd be furious if it was only that she didn't have the proper license. Besides, Ryuzaki would've begun to prepare her for the license beforehand so she could use it right away._

_They're both happy about whatever it is… Keiko's not resentful… so she's not injured or anything like that…_

It hit him quickly, and he began to chuckle. _I'd bet anything that Keiko's pregnant again. That'd be why. And why he had the idea of the bike in time for her birthday, but since she wasn't actually pregnant at the time…_

_Well, it also explains that she's been kind of grumpy lately…_

"Whatever is so funny, Light Yagami?" Lawliet asked distractedly, not even turning to look at the young man beside him.

"Congratulations, guys," he said with a wide, relaxed smile. "Oh, wow… your acting really sucks sometimes."

At this, Keiko had to face him. "Excuse me?"

Light snickered again. "Kei-Kei, I know you _can_ be a brilliant actress, but apparently, you're being lazy right now, cuz it's pretty obvious!"

Lawliet tilted his head, swiveling his black gaze to the brown-haired man. "Mm, you are not being very clear, Light Yagami. I'm afraid we haven't the faintest idea as to what you're talking about."

"Keiko's pregnant, right?"

Lawliet's expression of expectancy didn't change in the slightest, but Keiko could still tell that he was shocked that the young man had figured it out. She began to laugh hysterically. "HAHAHA!! Ha—Ryuu… hahaha! Your face!!" She leaned her head against his leg as she squatted down on the gravel driveway.

Finally, Lawliet sighed. "Mm, you are speaking nonsense…"

But Keiko's reaction rather negated the effect of his words. She snickered uncontrollably at Lawliet's own reaction. "Bravo, Light-o. Bravo."

"OH, A KID!" Misa cried happily, jumping into the air with joy. "SO EXCITING!! MISA-MISA WILL HELP DECORATE!"

Keiko stood and put her hands on Misa's shoulders. "Okay, okay—Misa. Calm down and step _away_ from the bike." She'd be damned if anyone or anything put a scratch on her new motorcycle… "Now. Look at me. It's not coming for a good long while. With luck, you'll be back in Tokyo by the time I start showing."

"But you can't plan ahead too far, can you?" she pointed out.

"Uh, yes, you can," Keiko chuckled. "We don't even know its gender yet."

"Or the number," Lawliet mumbled as he turned back to the house.

Keiko rolled her eyes. "Hey, that was _your_ fault. You're the one with a history of twins in your family." After carefully raising the kickstand, she gripped the handlebars and pushed forward gently toward the garage. "Open the garage for me, Ryuu?"

He nodded once and turned briefly back to look at her. Keiko could tell by his expression that while he was still happy, he was a little conflicted, even disappointed, that Light had discovered Keiko's pregnancy.

Once inside, Light sighed and shook his head, a smile still playing about his lips. "Really, Ryuzaki. Why so upset? There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Keiko's your _wife_. Besides, you already have two kids."

Lawliet said nothing for a moment, mulling it over. "I am not embarrassed, Light-kun." No, he was not—not _really_, anyway. No, he was afraid. He recalled what had occurred the first time Keiko had been pregnant… and it was Light Yagami who'd struck Keiko. He'd almost succeeded in killing his children before they'd even been introduced to the world…

The great detective closed his eyes at the memory, thinking now what life would be like without Aimi or Alex having been born.

Wisely, he decided not to dwell on that thought, or the memory of Light's previous actions. He tried to reconcile it in his mind by telling himself that Light had been Kira at the time and wad not thinking properly, but he still couldn't quite imagine them apart. Not really… Despite the fact that now, Light was obviously sane and that murdering was the last thing on his mind, Lawliet's own anger spurred him to remember the past and to not ever forget it.

Besides, he only trusted Keiko and Watari fully, and only a few select others did he trust at all. Light was not included in either group. Nor would he be anytime soon.

That's just the way it was.

* * *

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed nine o'clock. Dusk had fallen over the orphanage, and Roger worked in his office by lamplight. It had been a long day… Alexander and Sampson had pulled at least three different pranks since morning: they'd put hot sauce in Aimi's breakfast porridge and rat droppings instead of raisins (fortunately, she'd had the sense to recognize the different before eating the excrement, but not before having first tasted the fiery porridge); they'd put a bucket of water above Roger's office door which had soaked him entirely just before lunch; and they'd attempted to steal Near's toys, but that plan had failed miserably. Needless to say, Watari had been informed and Alex's parents would be called, but been extremely upset when they'd just lectured him over the phone instead of actually coming over. The poor kid needed his parents, but they were trying to stop a mass murderer…

It was painful to watch the young boy resort to such lengths to get parental attention. Roger had considered calling Keiko and Lawliet himself and asking them to put the case on hiatus just for a few hours to talk with their son in person…

Roger buried his face in one hand, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. Thank God the day was done with…

A knock sounded at the door. "Ah, come in," he said timidly from his desk.

The door opened to admit Scout. Her ice-cold green eyes stared at him flatly. "Roger, I would ask that you resume pampering Near, because I can no longer do so without risking harm to him."

Roger's eyes widened behind his glasses. Never had he seen her so desperate! She must be at her wit's end… He cleared his throat and stood slowly. "What has happened, may I ask?"

"That is information that I should not disclose, nor will I do so. Suffice it to say that he irritates me beyond reason and I wish to have nothing to do with him."

He noticed sadly that she stared past him at the window, not meeting his gaze at all. She appeared so militant, so lifeless, so… so…

So dead.

That was the problem with most of the kids in the orphanage. Many of them knew the reasons for their having been placed there, and they'd grown bitter or cynical over their circumstances, over which they had no control. Others coped well, but the ones who didn't… the ones like Scout and Near, most pointedly…

They had no one and nothing to hold onto. No one they could trust… they were two waifs in a cruel world, both victims of circumstances. Scout's father had left her family and after her mother lost her job, she had to scrounge for a living on the streets just to keep bread on the table. Finally, her mother was evicted and she took her own life. Scout was left alone to her gang…

Near was abandoned at the age of three. His parents just left him at a busy store in Glasgow, and he was placed in a nearby orphanage. He'd gone in and out of foster care for the next four years, until Roger discovered him and brought him to Wammy's. Near was one of the few who Watari did not rescue; this was the reason for Near's partial attachment to Roger. Well, that, and Watari, at that point, was traveling the world with L.

Both Near and Scout were cold, unattached, and neither allowed anyone to take an emotional hold in their lives… with the exception of Aimi. Aimi did have a connection to both of them, being rather compatible with the two older geniuses in their mutual silence and stolidity. But other than that one exception…

It was a lonely life.

It had been both Watari and Roger's hope that perhaps the two young people would develop a friendship and perhaps a real relationship, but perhaps _that_ was too much to hope for. But as Scout was becoming the next Watari, it would be beneficial for everyone if they really got along. It seemed their plans had been in vain.

Scout sighed heavily. "I grow weary of being forced to babysit a man older than myself who is thoroughly capable of caring for himself. He is arrogant, insensitive, and he cannot stand me, nor I him. We cannot work together any longer. No…" She paused. "I never worked with him in the first place. I merely followed his orders."

Roger's mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he searched for something to say to her. "I'm… afraid… I've made a mistake…" His eyes lifted to meet Scout's; she finally stared back at him. "It was my hope that you'd at least be cordial… It would have been advantageous for the two of you to get along, as Watari will be retiring soon, and as we are currently looking for a replacement for myself…"

Scout blinked once. "I am sorry. I have tried. I honestly have. However, I cannot allow this to go on further. Please allow me to return to my duties of running the orphanage…"

Roger slumped back down in his chair. "Forgive me, Scout. Yes, yes… I will talk with Watari about this… in the meantime, I will tend to Near."

"Thank you, Roger. Again, I offer my apologies for my failure." She nodded her head once and left the room, back straight and head held high. She would not regret her decision… no. If there was anything she did regret about this instance, it was that she was putting Roger and Watari back to work for her sake. She'd held out as long as she was able… but after what he'd just done…

**

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.:FLASHBACK MODE:.

_"Can I get you anything, Near?"_

_Near sat in the center of his room amid a large, elaborate Lego setup that resembled some kind of base of sorts. It must've taken hours to assemble… it was massive. "Come here, Scout…"_

_Irked, she obeyed and stood beside him. "Yes?"_

_"Have a seat."_

_"Why?"_

_"You should be comfortable. This may take a while." The entire time, he never removed his gaze from his Lego bricks or his plastic figurines and vehicles. _

_"What may take a while…?" Scout asked warily._

_"Do not be offended or shocked. I wish to hear your input on something."_

_Was he asking for her opinion? Asking for her HELP?! Did he honestly have the audacity to do this NOW, of all times?! "I am comfortable standing at present; thank you," she replied simply. "What is it that you wish for me to discuss?"_

_"As you know, I am acting as L, currently. I am amid a case that takes place in Canton. A series of frauds seems to have baffled the authorities, and yet, I believe that they are all committed by the same person. However, I am having a bit of trouble locating the man or finding his identity."_

_"How am I to help with this?" she asked calmly, staring straight ahead at the wall. Did he honestly think that he could suddenly gain her approval by asking her the question to which he already knew the answer? "If I am correct, you already know how to catch him. What would you gain from a second opinion?"_

_There was a pause. "You are correct. That was not my original intention. Rather, I wish to know why you have been angry with me."_

_"Do you not know?"_

_"If you are referring to the odd positioning of the two figures… that was entirely unintentional, I will have you know." Near paused, finally deigning to look up at her. "I doubt you will believe me, but I feel I must explain. That said, I also wish to inform you that your ongoing anger and unspoken hostility gives me stress…"_

_Scout frowned and looked down at the white-haired man. For several moments, she said nothing. So he didn't like working with her, either? Well, then, what was the point in working together? What were they even doing discussing it?_

_"I see. If there is nothing further you need, I will not trouble you with my clearly undesired presence any longer," she informed him imperiously._

_Near's head fell back to the ground. "No… there is nothing I need."_

_And with that, Scout left, slamming the door in her wake._

**.:END FLASHBACK:.**

* * *

After their encounter, unbeknownst to Scout, Near had been rather saddened. He wasn't at all sure why this was so; he suddenly knew that he'd done something wrong, but had no idea how to remedy it. There would be another conversation with Scout again, and soon, he knew. In the meantime, he'd have to sort out why his heart felt like it was now jumbled up in a painful knot…

_

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_

Aw, poor Near!! I kind of feel sorry for him, now... But yay for Keiko, sort of! Mello and Matt are up next! And more Scout and Near!! Reviews are awesomely appreciated!!!


	14. I Love Technology

**_Disclaimer: I don't own _Death Note...**

**BlueHarpy **_is the coauthor; _**Madeline Cullen**_ is to be thanked for advice and additional help._

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**WARNING:** _L/Keiko part includes various sexual innuendos… I would advise those of you who do not wish to read perverted stuff to NOT READ IT and SKIP AHEAD TO THE ALEX OR MATT/MELLO PARTS!! THIS STORY IS NOW RATED M FOR THE FOLLOWING PASSAGE!! Your comprehension of the story will not suffer if you skip this part; it is sheer fluff._

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**CHAPTER 14 - I LOVE TECHNOLOGY**

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Two days had passed since Lawliet had given Keiko her new motorcycle… which she could not use, due to her pregnancy. Two days…

And in order to pass the time, Keiko had gotten the bright idea to play something of a joke on Lawliet. The only problem was the time involved preparing said prank, which just so happened to be an interactive desktop mascot in a chibi-style form of Keiko herself. Perhaps for Keiko it wouldn't have taken so long if she hadn't decided to make it so complicated! Once finished, this chibi Keiko mascot would, when clicked on, alternate between smiling and winking, grinning, laughing, and pointing at the user and shouting "asshole!" It did also have a few different comments up its sleeve which would show in the form of speech bubbles, such as "Whatcha working on?" and "You're a nerd!" Keiko had also created a small platform for the mascot, upon which it stood unless ignored for more than one minute, at which point it would sit down on the platform. If not clicked for an additional minute, it would either make a mockery of Lawliet by sitting in his customary manner and chewing its thumb, or it would fall asleep, or even kick her legs out and look around the desktop like it wasn't sure what was going on.

On this little platform were a pair of buttons, one saying "Day Mode" and the other labeled "Night Mode." The mascot, by default, was set on Day Mode, wherein it would look and act like normal Keiko. However, the Night Mode would transform the regular Keiko mascot into a much more slinky little figure wearing the famous candy lingerie. It would, when clicked on, say things like "Detectives are sexy" and "L is hawt" and even "Shut up and sleep with me" (at which point two or three little music notes would frame the speech bubble). Or it would wink at the user and blow kisses, or bend over a little and smile suggestively.

The mascot did not make sound at all—no, that would've aggravated both L and Light unnecessarily. The point was to amuse the former… Keiko didn't plan on Light's reactions. They didn't matter. After all, Light would likely only see the Day Mode mascot, which would probably amuse him as well.

Finally the mascot was finished, after almost twenty hours' worth of labor and toil in front of her laptop computer. Misa did help out a bit on the testing of the mascot, even on the Night Mode. By this point, Keiko didn't care. Besides, after their conversation about how "good" Lawliet was, well, Misa easily figured out exactly what Keiko thought of L. (However, during the more technical process of the creation of the mascot, Misa was forced to amuse herself by playing with Castor, the black cat. Castor was more than willing to oblige in the matter, having been virtually starved of actual attention for the past few weeks.)

And now, it was time to see L's reaction…

Just after calling Light and L down for dinner that night, Keiko claimed that she had to use the toilet and headed upstairs with Misa trailing close behind. Quietly, she sneaked into Lawliet's office and pulled from her pocket the flash drive on which she'd stored the mascot and the programming for it. It didn't take long for them to upload the figure and get it running. They had just enough time to run into the bathroom and flush the toilet and run the tap for a few moments and return to the kitchen before either of the men downstairs could discover that they'd gone somewhere other than the bathroom.

Throughout the meal, both women had to avoid looking at one another, lest they lose their composure and laugh over their prank, thereby giving it away…

It was a very long half hour.

Finally, afterward, Light and Lawliet made their way back upstairs to the office to resume working. Both Lawliet's computer and Light's had gone into sleep mode, so the mascot was not immediately apparent. But once Lawliet logged back into his machine, he stared at the Keiko mascot, wide-eyed and a little confused for the briefest of moments (he realized then that Keiko had used her time "in the toilet" to instead upload the interactive figure onto his computer. Light, noticing Lawliet's preoccupation from the corner of his eye, glanced over at his screen, only to see a cartoon Keiko standing there, clad in a green T-shirt and jeans. He laughed. "Wow, she _is_ bored!" he exclaimed with a grin. "What's it do?"

Lawliet maneuvered his mouse to click on the mascot. The first thing it did was frown and point at the screen, just before a speech bubble popped up beside its head, reading "Asshole!!" in bold red letters.

This did amuse Lawliet, who began to chuckle at this. Light, however, was a bit lost. "Um… what? Is that some kind of joke between you guys?"

Lawliet ignored him to click on the figure once again. It smiled cheerfully and waved in a friendly manner before returning to its original blank stare. Intrigued, Lawliet continued clicking on it until he'd received several different reactions (by this time, Light had returned to his own computer, being rather bored with it all). Curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to find out what the Night Mode was for.

A curtain slid out of nowhere, hiding Keiko from sight, and within another two seconds, the mascot stood there, clothed brazenly in some very familiar lingerie…

A quick glance in Light's direction told him that the young man was thankfully not paying attention to Lawliet or his computer. Tentatively, he probed the mascot once again for its various actions. This time, Keiko winked and smiled in a rather evocative manner. Lawliet blinked. After seeing but two more actions, he decided to leave it be and continue with his work. To his mild surprise, the mascot remained visible above all the other applications he opened. Keiko was good. Then again, it wouldn't be hard for her. Heck, it wasn't even hard, period—not for people who truly knew anything about programming, anyway. But after about a minute of inactivity from the Keiko mascot, it lay down on the small grey platform and pulled a banana out of nowhere and proceeded to eat it while staring at him.

Lawliet's face reddened at this, and he instantly switched it over to Day Mode. It was much easier to watch Keiko sit there on the platform in jeans and a T-shirt, gazing around his desktop or mocking his sitting position, than it was to see her perform extremely provocative deeds or spout off ridiculous innuendos…

However, unable to resist the opportunity, he quickly got onto Paint…

Waiting downstairs for some form of electronic response, Keiko and Misa were giggling incessantly with each other, imagining his various reactions, and also those of Light.

"Omigosh, what if—hee hee hee!—what if Light sees the thing with the banana…?" Misa wondered, eyes wide.

Keiko was laughing so hard that she accidentally emitted something of a pig-snort. This, of course, only proceeded to send them further into hilarity. Finally, she shook her head. "What if he sees the part where it _almost_ takes off the bikini top…?!" She hissed with laughter. "Or—hahahaha!!" But she stopped. An electronic "bring!" sound made them both turn their attentions to the computer. Keiko saw that a new message had come in from Lawliet and clicked on it.

_"Tenshi, bananas are indeed delicious, but perhaps I can suggest something sweeter? Sincerely yours, Ryuzaki."_

Curious, Keiko opened the attachment, only to find a simple, if crude, picture of a banana split… wherein the banana stood up between two scoops of chocolate sauce-covered ice cream. A swirl of whipped cream and a red cherry topped the banana, and just for effect, the whipped cream was beginning to melt. A bit of the stuff dripped off the tip of the banana down onto the ice cream.

Keiko had to admit that while it wasn't remotely a good picture, it was easy to tell what it was… implications included. She and Misa took one look at the sundae and both began howling with laughter. Misa buried her face in a pillow to stifle her own laughter as her legs kicked up and down in sheer hysteria; tears were streaming down Keiko's face as she fought to breathe. Who knew Lawliet would've sent something that he knew full well Misa would've seen, too?!

Upstairs, Light frowned. "Geez, they're making a lot of noise. What's so funny…?"

Fighting to hide his grin, Lawliet's fingers twiddled uselessly atop his knees. "Mm, I'm sure I have no idea, Light Yagami…"

But before he could say much more, he'd received an email message of his own in return.

_"My beloved husband, perhaps this talk of food has made you hungry. Would you care for something to eat? —Keiko."_

Upon viewing the contents of the attachment with this email message (which just so happened to be a bowlful of cherries), he was again unable to resist retaliation…

_"My dearest love, your cooking skills are as excellent as ever and after such a splendid dinner have not left me wanting much."_

Attached was a picture of a single cherry, beside which was a small arrow, declaring the cherry to be simply "yours."

Of course, Keiko had no reasonable comeback to this, but she and Misa again were overcome with a mad fit of giggles. Upstairs, Light sighed. "Geez, don't they know we're working, here?"

Lawliet gave a small, but amused, smile. "Mm, I'm sure they do, Light Yagami."

"Then why don't they shut up?"

"If you wish to tell them yourself, feel free to do so."

"Fine!" With that, Light rose from his chair (Lawliet reluctantly followed) and headed down the hall to the top of the stairs. "Hey, guys, come on," he said loudly so that the two women lying on the living room floor could hear him. Their laughter immediately ceased and they stared up at him curiously. "We're trying to solve a case, here. Let us think, all right?"

Keiko and Misa both caught a glimpse of Lawliet poking his head out of the office door, one finger at his lips, which curved upward into a very perverted grin. Both attempted to contain their laughter at the sight of him, but he didn't help matters any by raising his other hand and flapping his hand infinitesimally up and down in a tiny wave. The two already-giddy women were sent into fits of muffled snorting and snickering at his flirtatious behavior. Light, annoyed, turned to Lawliet, only to find him encouraging their hysteria with his goofy actions. "Oh, come on!" Light exclaimed, highly irritated. "Fine," he mumbled, turning back to the office. "Shouldn't have expected anything different from _you_, anyway…"

* * *

The bald-pated Jack Smitheson strode into the room after heralding himself with a knock. Mello looked up from his laptop in the corner, fighting to keep from scowling at the man. "Yeah?"

Smitheson twitched, obviously not used to the lack of respect. But Piers had instructed him that Mello and Matt were to be something of exceptions to a few of the rules—they were VIPs of a sort, if rather underprivileged in their real freedoms. Small annoyances like respect didn't matter so much as long as they actually obeyed the rules. Smitheson thought this ridiculous, but said nothing to counter it—he was not allowed the same luxury of disrespect.

"Is Mr. Matthew present?"

Matt's now-crimson head popped into view, shaded by his orange goggles. A lit cigarette hung from his lips. "Jack, old bean!" he cried loudly, an infectious grin spreading on his face.

Smitheson did not object to being addressed as such, even when Matt was obviously being rather teasing. No one was called _old bean_ anymore; didn't he know? He cleared his throat professionally and nodded formally to Matt. "I'm sure you're aware that the mafia keeps only those who are useful both singularly as well as in groups. Mr. Rayne requests that you prove your own worth as a singular player."

"As a player?" Matt grinned. "Oh, you don't say!"

"Stow it, Matt," Mello grunted tersely, not even looking up from his own computer screen. "Be serious."

Matt sighed, but sobered instantly. "Yes. How exactly does he propose that I _prove myself_?"

"Mr. Rayne would like to discuss that with you personally. If you'll follow me…"

Matt stole a quick glance at Mello, who did not so much as twitch. With a shrug, he made a quick stop to the bathroom to flick his cigarette butt into the toilet, and joined Smitheson in the hallway. He was led down many floors and to a once-fancy suite; inside, Piers Rayne sat upon a leather sofa before a coffee table. A few paintings hung on the walls, and a pair of overstuffed armchairs allowed Rayne to discuss matters with others, while keeping his own front to the door and anyone else with their _backs_ to the door. A dangerous, but subtle move, Matt acknowledged. And with the emphasis on courtesy in the Syndicate, Rayne nearly forced anyone who entered to sit down, thereby putting them in a position of vulnerability. No one would be able to react as quickly to an attack as Rayne could from his vantage point; besides, this could allow for something of an ambush.

Nevertheless, Matt sat obediently in one of the armchairs, an attentive, but friendly, expression upon his fair features. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Rayne, sir!" he said politely.

Piers nodded formally, a smirk playing about his lips. "And you, Mr. Matthew."

"Ah, no need to treat me like anything special!" he said with a short laugh. "Matt's the name. I don't know who this _Mr. Matthew_ is… I'm just a lowly hacker, that's all!" Was it any mistake or accident that he'd announced his skill with a computer? No… Matt knew that this was a prime opportunity to be able to show some kind of preference as to what kinds of jobs he'd most easily accomplish.

"I see…" Piers raised a single eyebrow as he stared at Matt silently for a few moments. "Perhaps you would like to showcase your skill by transferring some funds electronically…?"

Matt shrugged. "Sure, why not? From where to whom?"

At this, Piers' face broke into a friendly smile. "I admire your willingness. It's something that my men typically lack." He paused to take a tiny sip from a china teacup, looking ever so demure. A pause followed. Matt knew by the suddenly crafty look in Rayne's eyes that he'd just made a terrible mistake.

"I'd like you to transfer one million pounds to a set of bank accounts in the Syndicate."

Matt's mouth hung open for a few seconds, and he slowly raised his goggles, positioning them on his head so that he could stare at Piers Rayne unobstructed. "You want… what?!"

"One million pounds."

Matt gulped. It wasn't that a million pounds was an enormous amount to the Syndicate; such a large organization required much more. A million was but a test. But surely someone would notice the loss of a million pounds…! Or the addition of said amount to another account. He'd never survive it without being jailed. Moreover, it was like another threat to L—a million pounds?! That was worth over a million dollars, and any case over a million dollars, L was interested in. It meant a challenge.

Of course, Deneuve or Coil could also be called in. Not that Mello would do anything as Deneuve, if that was the case. But Coil… then, Near would be called into action. Near would not be so lenient as L in the matter…

"If I can point out a few things, Mr. Rayne," Matt said nervously, "ah, that'll require more work on someone else's part, because in order to go undetected, a sum like that would have to be split up about a thousand times, at the least! We'd have to have at least that many different names to distribute the money to… and there's no way it'd go unnoticed… And the loss of a million pounds from one source would definitely be suspicious… We'd have detectives on our tail faster than you could say 'Swiss Bank Accounts!'"

Rayne leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at Matt. "That is not a problem. You will take the money from at least five different sources and transfer the funds to a list of accounts which Ms. White will prepare for you. If you are caught, then you are useless and we have no further business with you. If, however, you succeed and are not caught, then you will have definitely proved your worth to the Syndicate and to me."

Matt looked at the man suspiciously. "What if I refuse to do any of this?"

"Then you shall never leave this building. You are obviously not loyal and we cannot risk you spilling any secrets or names."

Matt nodded. "I see… Well, then." His hand shot forward, and he grinned brightly. "When do I start?"

Rayne chuckled. "That's the spirit. Come on. Smitheson?"

The man appeared from behind Matt's chair—the red-head jumped slightly at the realization.

"Get Matt here anything he needs for the job. He is to complete his task as soon as possible."

"Understood, sir." Smitheson gestured to Matt, who stood to follow him once again.

"Oh, and Matt?" He turned back to Rayne, who had spoken. "Best of luck to you." He raised his teacup just slightly in a mockery of a toast, and watched intently as he left the room.

He was led to another room up a few floors. Inside there was naught but a concrete floor (the carpet and padding had been removed) and a single computer. "You will wait here, please. Do not touch anything."

_Not like there's much to touch in the first place,_ Matt thought as the door closed behind him. He got down to his knees and closely surveyed the machine, carefully refraining from touching the device. But all he could tell by looking at the opaque case was that it had T3 Internet access through fiber optic cabling to a router in the ceiling, killer sound and video cards, and seemingly old-fashioned wired mouse and keyboard—presumably for better security. Wireless still wasn't entirely safe or reliable, despite how much the technology had been developed.

The monitor, he saw, was a fancy LCD model measuring 17 inches across. Not too big, but definitely big enough. The keyboard and mouse weren't anything special—obviously due to the fact that they were physically wired to the computer tower. But still, it prevented any errors (which were unlikely in the first place).

A laser printer sat in the corner of the room, which was also manually hooked up to the tower. It was definitely a high-quality printer; that much was clear. Matt nodded in approval. Everything looked good overall.

The door squeaked on its hinges as it opened to admit a tall brunette woman in a crisp chocolate brown suit—Olivia White, he remembered. "Hello, Matt," she said formally, pursing her crimson-coated lips. In one carefully manicured hand was a manila folder, which she handed to him. "Inside should be all the information you need. We request that you remove all clothing but your necessary undergarments to prevent static electricity to damage the equipment. This is a very expensive computer and it was very difficult to obtain and set up."

"Sure thing," he said with a shrug. "Anything else? No time limits, no thugs watching my every move?"

"There is a camera in each corner of the room," she said smoothly. "We will be monitoring you as you work. If you have no further questions," she prompted as she returned to the door, her high heels clacking ominously on the hard floor, "I'll leave you to your work."

And the door closed, leaving Matt in absolute silence. "Well," he muttered, reaching for the zipper on his furry vest, "better not disobey 'em…"

* * *

Alex scowled to himself. His last few pranks had only earned him a short lecture over the phone from Keiko. That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted them to actually pay attention to him, to see them face to face again! Sure, they'd be furious with him if it came to that, but at least he'd know they cared enough about him to chastise him properly! As it was, he was beginning to feel cast aside like an old glove…

"If you want their attention, you have to really get under their skin," Ferdy had told him simply. "It has to be more than some stupid pranks; you really have to rattle them."

The trouble was, Alex wasn't inherently a bad kid; he'd had no practice in actual pranks or troublemaking during his six years' experience. No, he was so used to being the "good kid," the kid who tried to please everyone… and halfway succeeded. Well, there'd be no more half successes for him! He, Alex, would finally make a name for himself, even if it wasn't attached to a good reputation. At least he'd be known for something besides being L's son, or the older brother of Aimi…

Determined, he'd decided to attack where it might potentially hurt his mother. Of course, not wanting to really harm her, he'd set things up for the plan to intentionally fail at what it looked like. He was going to _appear_ to poison his mother's beloved cat, Castor, and purposefully fail at it somehow. Most likely, he'd have to be caught in the act, and would have to carry out everything to the T—if he didn't have real poison that would kill Castor, he wouldn't be taken seriously… or he'd be seen as a either not smart enough to cause real damage (in which case he'd be laughed at), or as a _problem child_. Alex hated those words. He'd heard them before. They always meant that the child in question actually had some kind of classifiable disorder or problem: emotional dysregulation, reactive attachment disorder, complex post-traumatic stress disorder, borderline personality disorder, labile effect, mild schizophrenia, or the like. Really, wasn't there any way a kid could act out of hand without someone freaking out over what disease he had?! There was a thing called disobedience…

Or severe lack of parental attention that drove a body to absolute fury…

Poor Alex was driven to distraction. His grades were suffering (and not just his mathematics grade), his social life was dying, his teachers had taken him aside a few different times and asked if there was anything wrong. The answer was always a quiet sigh and just that he was having a bit of a hard time and that his ambitious class load was beginning to stress him out, but that he'd get over it. Smile tiredly for effect and wait for the teacher's response, which was always, "If you need any help, just let me know."

A polite and grateful thanks followed, and that was his ticket out. Teachers could be played easily, he'd found. With so many students to worry about (or rather, keep up with—most of the kids were smarter than the teachers themselves), just one student wouldn't mean anything. They just had to have a brief conversation, that was all. The rest was up to Watari or Roger or the guidance counselor, Miss Atwater.

So that afternoon, Alex sneaked out (completely cutting his afternoon classes for the sake of the excursion) across the lawn to his parents' house (it was hardly _his_ anymore) and behind the patio out back. He could get into the kitchen from there and easily make his way into the laundry room, where Castor took up residence. But he'd have to make his presence subtly known at just the last minute and not before, or else he'd not startle anyone. The shock factor was his best friend in this kind of situation. If executed properly, he'd get SOME form of lecture, or even a hug of sympathy for his plight if his parents figured out his motive, though he wasn't sure if he exactly wanted the latter at this point.

He took two whole minutes to open the door, slip inside, and close it behind him. No need to rush…

Carefully, he drew out of his back pocket a paper packet (using one of his failed long division assignments for added emphasis—he'd get into extra trouble for it) of a simple pale green powder, which he poured atop the half-full food dish and sprinkled into the water, where it dissolved. Purposefully, he turned on heel, making the rubber sole of his trainer squeak against the slick tile floor. He froze.

For five whole minutes, he remained stationary. Nothing happened. No one came. No one even asked, "Did you hear something?" (He could hear his mother and the voice of another woman in the other room. Their giggly, girly conversation never even paused for a moment.)

He tried again and decisively maneuvered his foot so that his shoe squeaked on the tile.

Again, five minutes, and nothing.

Well, fine! See if he cared if the stupid cat died! The cat probably got more attention than he'd ever get, anyway… Well, he'd be damned if an animal would get more affection from his mom than he would! But as he stared at the green powder on the dry food bowl… he hesitated.

And at that opportune moment, Castor came trotting into the room. He saw Alex and bounded over, purring as he rubbed against the _young master_'s legs.

Alex sighed heavily. Stupid cat sending him on a guilt trip… He picked up the two dishes and carried them over to the door, where he took them outside and rinsed them out with the spigot. Then he returned them to the laundry room and left, heading grumpily back to the Wammy's House.

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**Volital **_and _**Siean Horoc**_, I combined both of your ideas from your last reviews for Alex in this scene. :D I couldn't help it. Thanks so much for the inspiration, you guys! _

_Review, please?!?!? _


	15. Week from Hell, Part One

**_Disclaimer: If you, uh, if you, if-if-i-i-if you, uh, if you do not own da _Death Note_... then-th-th-then, then you might not know... why you, why you... why you had to do that. (modified Brian Regan quote)_**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy;**_ helped out lots by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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CHAPTER 15 - WEEK FROM HELL, PART ONE

* * *

And all it started with a simple desire for parental attention…

Sampson had gotten the random notion to begin playing a few pranks—harmless, really, if annoying. But Alex and Ferdy had gotten involved, and soon, the trio was running rampant throughout the orphanage, going entirely crazy.

The first idea had been fairly innocent. Just before class one day, Sampson set up five ordinary kitchen timers throughout one of the classrooms, each one set to go off two minutes after the previous so that the teacher would be driven insane by the raucous noise. The lesson would be distracted, interrupted, delayed, and finally, postponed for a good ten minutes—so Sampson estimated, anyway. At any rate, it earned several laughs from the students and a glorious fifteen minutes of freedom whilst the teacher scrambled about the room, completely confused by the noise coming from different directions…

And the class was released early.

Sampson was hailed a hero by Ferdy and Alex both, as well as by a few other kids who'd overheard that it was his doing. But Alex followed Ferdy and Sampson back to their room, where the three began to scheme for their next great plot.

Comic books.

Simple, innocent, normal.

Textbooks.

Boring, ordinary, commonplace.

Why not spice up the lesson a bit with some color?

The next day, all of the grammar books had been swapped for various comic books, from Spider-Man to Superman to the Green Lantern to Watchman and everything in between.

Needless to say, poor Aimi was infuriated by this move, and further incensed by the cocky grin Alex sent her way when the instructor tried to improvise a lesson, a feat at which she floundered at first, but the lesson did go passably well… except that half the class never really learned what a gerund was, due to the fine distraction of the comic books.

* * *

A soft, almost inaudible _thump_ could be repeatedly heard throughout the corridor, occasionally accompanied by the creak of ancient floorboards, betraying the orphanage's age. Near had planned his excursion well—the halls of Wammy's were completely vacated.

Scout glanced up from her desk at the sound of a knock. Currently, she was absorbed in paperwork for the arrival of a new orphan at Wammy's. Watari had discovered the young girl in France about a fortnight ago; her parents had just died a month ago. Arrangements were being made for Watari to travel to the Alsace to have her take an aptitude exam for placement in Wammy's, and if all went well, the girl would be in Winchester within the week. "Come in," Scout called, remaining at the desk.

The door swung open, and Near stepped quickly inside. Only his eyes betrayed any emotion, which appeared to be a cross between rage and panic. Scout looked him up and down, for a split second confused by his presence, but she then saw the problem…

His clothes were completely pink.

Scout's green eyes widened just slightly, and she brought a hand up to clamp down over her mouth in attempt to retain her laughter. Oh, whoever was responsible for this was definitely getting some kind of reward!

After a long pause (Near snorted his disdain at her obvious reaction), Scout recovered her composure and folded her hands together tightly on the desk. "Near… to what do I owe the… unexpected… pleasure?" She could not suppress a snicker, which quickly turned into an uncontrollable giggle.

Near tilted his head to the side. Granted, he'd expected her to be amused, but for Scout to actually _giggle_?! What in the world…?

And he was further surprised by a strange sort of calm on his part, as though her suddenly cheerful mood was comforting in some way to him. Driving it from his mind for the present, he leveled his gaze at her seriously and sighed. "I would get to the bottom of this myself, but I have more important things to attend to, namely finding a serial killer in Johannesburg. I suggest you have the laundry staff be a bit more _careful_ with their work and not mix reds with whites."

Scout's gaze roved over Near's pink attire, and she smirked again, not-so-subtly lifting her hand to cover her face once again. She knew that she should've had a tighter rein on her reactions, but… it was too funny! And oddly enough, she suddenly felt appeased, like everything he'd done to her was suddenly avenged with this one simple act. Probably because Near had never been so disgraced in his entire life as he was currently, and she was the one to see it. _Who's laughing now, Near?_ She cleared her throat and, under a forced semblance of serenity, she spoke. "Y-yes… I'll get to that s-s-s-oon… pfft! Ahem…"

Near treated her to a half-hearted glare (which was neither threatening nor remotely intimidating, but rather supremely funny) and promptly left Scout to her work. Once she was sure he was out of earshot, she collapsed onto her desk and laughed until she cried…

* * *

That night, Alex was brought into Scout's office. One of the washwomen had seen him sneaking into the laundry room mixing various colors of clothing together, and she'd immediately dragged him by the ear up to Scout before retreating back to the basement.

"Have a seat," Scout told him coolly. He obeyed easily. Alex wasn't too terribly afraid of Scout. His sister's best friend was not especially intimidating to him, even if she _was_ almost fourteen years his senior.

A long stretch of silence made Alex fidget uncomfortably under her gaze. This was shaping up to be worse than dealing with his father…

Finally, Scout sighed. "Alex… I should punish you. I really should…"

He raised an eyebrow. "But…?"

The ghost of a smile flitted around the corners of her mouth. "But… I don't think I can do much to you beyond warning you that if you do something like this again, you'll be in _real_ trouble. Right now… well, let's just say that you're lucky."

Alex's eyes widened. "Huh? You mean I'm free?"

She nodded. "Just don't do anything like that again…"

His head shook from side to side vigorously. "No! 'Course not, Scout! Never!"

At that, Scout rolled her eyes. "All right, all right—go. I'm sure you have homework to get to…"

"Yes, ma'am!" He slid off the chair and bolted for the door, taking off like a shot down the hall and back to Ferdy and Sampson's room to tell his friends the good news.

Back in her office, Scout shook her head in resignation. She knew that some form of discipline was definitely in order, but after seeing Near in pink like that, well… she didn't have the heart. In fact, she wished that Alex had been able to see the fruits of his labor. But perhaps that was punishment enough, having been deprived of such a hilarious sight!

_Remember today, Scout! Today, life is good._

* * *

But the next day was not so good. Midmorning, the cooks had played merry hell, screaming about the kitchens being plagued like Egypt during the Israelites' Exodus, and for God's sake, what had they ever done to deserve such calamity? Scout, Roger, and Watari had all gone to the kitchens to see the faucets running blood-red (the result of red Jell-o powder placed under the caps of the taps) and dead animals, quite obviously roadkill, in the freezers amid all the other meats. Lunch that day was a meager fare, due to the fact that the freezers had to be completely emptied, and all the meat thrown out. Risk of food poisoning was not worth attempting to save any of it. But then, all the students began protesting amid their lunch, a few of the girls squealing in displeasure. Mrs. Macgregor, the head cook, began carrying on in her rapid Scottish dialect, and promptly declared that she was going home to lay an ice pack on her forehead and have some sherry to calm herself down. An exasperated sigh came from one of the older boys. He stood and approached Mr. Wammy, who had come to see what all the fuss was about.

"Sir, I think someone switched the salt and the sugar everywhere. Here." He handed Watari a salt shaker.

Watari poured a bit of the stuff into his palm and tentatively tasted it. A frown crossed his face. "I see… Thank you, Joseph."

Considering that Alex was no longer allowed near the kitchens (after having switched Aimi's raisins with rat droppings), that ruled him out. He couldn't have been the culprit. But his friends, Ferdy and Sampson…

Well, they were made to write lines and do extra homework. Ever since child abuse laws had become stricter, spankings were not allowed. Loads of extra bookwork was the best alternative that Watari could think of, for while he hated giving punishments, he also wanted to make an impression that consequences came with poor choices.

Needless to say, this was much to Ferdy and Sampson's advantage, for they didn't mind at all. They'd laughed all night long about it, later.

* * *

On Wednesday, Sampson and Alex both attended the same math class. Today, they were starting to learn three-digit multiplication, which Alex had no interest in. Partially to show his displeasure with the class and partially to show off, he'd obtained a handful of paper clips and began to straighten them until they looked completely parallel to his ruler. Sampson looked up from his worksheet, throwing Alex a confused look. But when Alex pulled a file from his pocket and began to sharpen them into mini-javelins under his desk…

Sampson felt a soft tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Alex holding a note out to him. Curious, he opened the folded paper and read. _"After I go up to Mr. Collins' desk to ask for help, create some kind of distraction. Throw a paper plane in the back of the room—something. Just make him get up from his desk and give me an opening."_

Without turning to his comrade, Sampson nodded once and continued on his homework. After five or so minutes had passed, during which Sampson began working with some blank paper, a Sharpie, and a pair of scissors, Alex rose with his textbook and, a vaguely mournful expression painting his face, timidly padded up to the teacher's desk at the front of the room. Mr. Collins, a balding, portly, middle-aged man, saw him approaching and gestured to a spot on the desk where Alex could set his book. "Mr. Collins, I'm not sure that I get this…"

"Which part's giving you trouble?" he asked kindly. Someone giggled across the room, followed by a few other chuckles, and even a gasp or two. Mr. Collins' gaze snapped up. Alex, too, glanced up to see what distraction Sampson had created, only to find a ridiculous caricature of Mr. Collins' face glued to the back of the wall. Two eyes pointed in different directions; a goofy grin made his mouth hang open, allowing the tongue to loll out sloppily. The mustache looked like some kind of strange awning over the mouth and under the bulbous nose. Sampson had even put sparkles atop his head, accentuating his baldness. The drawing took up at least seven sheets of paper side by side and atop one another so as to make it visible from the front of the room.

Collins stood, sighing in exasperation. The girls giggled even more as he sidled past his desk to the back of the room to tear it down. Whilst the man was engaged in destroying the artwork, Alex poked the mini-needles into the fabric of Collins' chair.

Mr. Collins sighed as he crinkled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the rubbish bin. He plopped down in his chair…

A great yelp sounded as the pins stuck into his buttocks, and as he practically leapt out of the chair, the class began roaring with laughter as the teacher danced around, trying to see what was now stuck in his bottom. He looked like he'd been on the receiving end of a porcupine attack!

Even Alex could not contain his laughter, but Collins quickly removed the paperclips from his behind and glared furiously at him. Wordlessly, he took Alex by the arm and dragged him up to Scout's office…

* * *

That afternoon, after having received a punishment of three hours' extra math homework to complete that evening and no dessert for a week, Alex and Ferdy launched another of their soon-to-be legendary pranks. Ferdy, as news of Alex's trick with the paperclip needles had spread like wildfire through the faculty and students alike, was the one to carry out this plan. Before class started, he sneaked up to the desk and placed a rubber snake inside the right hand drawer. Their teacher, Mrs. Farnsworth, opened the door just as he returned to his seat.

Just after she'd finished explaining the lesson and assigning homework, Ferdy rose from his seat and approached the right side of her desk. "Er, Mrs. Farnsworth," he began softly, "I'm afraid I don't understand the difference between _le _and _lo_, how they're used…"

Mrs. Farnsworth nodded and reached for the drawer opposite him…

"WAAAAHH!!" She leapt from her chair, standing and dancing around the drawer. Instantly, the class froze and looked up, startled by her sudden outburst. Ferdy jumped back to avoid colliding with her, reached into the drawer, and pulled out a jar of rubber cement, which, with a spare pencil, he proceeded to smear over her chair, both the back and the seat. Mrs. Farnsworth, totally oblivious to this, grasped her chest dramatically, taking in deep breaths. After a minute or two, she pulled a rubber snake out of the drawer, scowling furiously at the classroom. (By this point, Ferdy was wiping off the spare pencil on the fabric of the chair; he then tossed it into the nearby trashcan and screwed the lid back onto the jar before replacing it in the drawer.) "And to whom does this belong?" For emphasis, she gave the toy a shake, making it wobble curiously in the air.

Snickers could be heard throughout the classroom. What they all knew and what Mrs. Farnsworth didn't know was that the snake was naught but a red herring.

Mrs. Farnsworth glared at the students and threw the snake back onto her desk before resuming her seat. She settled back into the chair and turned to Ferdy a little sharply. She began explaining the answer to his question, and he had to fight to keep from laughing in her face then and there. Finally, he seemed to get the concept, and returned to his own desk in the back of the room.

Twenty minutes passed. "Mrs. Farnsworth?" A twelve-year-old girl raised her hand.

"One moment, Janice," she grunted, placing her hands on the arms of the chair so as to push herself out of the seat… only to be held back by something! Mrs. Farnsworth paused, unsure of what to do… She tried to turn to how she was caught, but to no avail. She could barely turn! She was well and truly stuck to the chair. After clearing her throat carefully, she suggested that Janice come up to the desk.

Meanwhile, Ferdy held his hand out in the aisle. Alex's own hand briefly slapped against his in acknowledgement of their victory.

* * *

After class, Mrs. Farnsworth remained uncharacteristically seated at her desk, reaching for the telephone nearby as an excuse while the students exited the room. Ferdy and Alex waited outside the room, unseen by anyone as they pressed themselves into an alcove a few meters down the hall. "Quillish? Yes, this is Margaret—I'm having… a bit of difficulty here… I seem to be glued to my chair! No… No, I _didn't_ see who did it! Otherwise, they'd already be in your office. Oh, oh, fine, but please get me out of this thing!!"

Ferdy grinned at Alex, who muffled his soft laughter with his sleeve. And with that, they quickly made a getaway back to Sampson's room to plot their next great adventure…

* * *

Late that night, Alex and Sampson made their way to one of the classrooms, carrying shirts full of jars of Vaseline. The plan was to coat an entire classroom with the stuff whilst Ferdy was busy in another room hiding the computer in one of the storage cabinets. Sampson slowly, silently began picking the lock to gain them entrance into the room, and soon, they were in. Donning rubber gloves, the two boys began to liberally smear the slimy substance onto every surface of the teacher's that they could get: the telephone (even on the receiver and speaker), the drawer handles and the drawers' contents, the chair, the desk, pencils, pens, chalk, and erasers. It didn't take a terribly long time, but it was time enough to think.

Alex couldn't keep from grinning like a fox as he reached his gloved hand into the jar and plopped a liberal dollop onto the desk, spreading it around. He hadn't felt this good in weeks… not since he'd last been with both his parents. Well, he didn't need them. It might have been a little painful without them, but he was over it now—or so he was trying to convince himself. And with each new smear of Vaseline, he was more assured of this fact. And if he did get in trouble for this, if somehow he _was_ caught, then he'd get what? Extra homework? Big deal. Would he get lectured by Scout or Grandpa Watari? As if _that_ would affect him… Would his parents be informed of his actions? They'd just yell at him over the phone. He could handle that. And if they actually demanded to see him in person, then he'd get to see them again. At least he'd know they cared…

Or perhaps it was a prime opportunity to tell them what horrible parents they were… to metaphorically spit into their faces!

No. He couldn't do that… tempting though it was. He'd have to act like he'd learned his lesson, or else they'd make his life miserable. His parents were probably the only two people in the world who could actually punish him—they knew his weaknesses. They'd give him nothing but math work to do from the time he got home until bedtime. He'd have no free time, no time to think up new schemes… no time to see his friends after school…

He'd sooner cope with three hours of math than six or seven.

"Hey, I think we're good." Sampson nudged him with his elbow.

"That should do it," Alex agreed, nodding. They shucked off their gloves and headed quickly to the chemistry room to dispose of them, as rubber gloves were found in the chemistry trash _all_ the time. And then, they made their way back to their respective bedrooms. Alex was left feeling a sense of accomplishment the likes of which he'd not felt in ages. Finally, he was having real fun, enjoying life! He felt like he belonged somewhere, with someone—his two best friends, to be exact. _They_ were his real family. L and Keiko, those were just his parents, and foster parents, at that. No, he truly belonged here at the orphanage. And he was going to make the most of it.

_

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There. Hopefully some humor and a tad bit of drama rolled into one. ScoutxNear moment and bits of Alex. For all of you out there who love Aimi... well, sorry. She's adorable, but not very interesting, so she's not going to be seen much for a while, but rest assured that she'll be back! She's a very important part of the plot.

_Reviews?? Pretty please?_

_Also, I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF CREATING A KEIKO MASCOT, which should be up on deviantART soon, if I can ever get the program to work. I'm consulting another dA person on the matter; the animation's all done, but I can't apply it to the program yet, so... yeah. Hopefully it'll be up within a month. Even more hopefully, within a week, but I'm not making any promises. Also, there'll be some drastic changes. There's no Night Mode (I refuse to actually draw that, though if someone wants to create one, I have no problem with that), but there IS the Day Mode in all its hilarity. Also, it doesn't sit down. Too much work. Making her mouth move and her head turn were hard enough... *shudder*_


	16. Restrictions Apply, Results May Vary

**_Disclaimer: A _Death Note _I do not own._**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_, advised by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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**WARNING!** _This chapter is also kind of M-rated. Innuendo-ness ensues… and some… thematic elements._

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**CHAPTER 16 - RESTRICTIONS APPLY, RESULTS MAY VARY**

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Mello sighed heavily. There was definitely something weird going on with the hierarchy in the Syndicate. Piers Rayne, top dog, had approached him AGAIN that morning to inform them of another mission they were to complete. This was another test of sorts—if he and Matt could complete this mission successfully with the supervision and help of only Lina (Mello had groaned at that), they'd be, for all intents and purposes, trusted members of the Syndicate, able to be promoted, able to take on their own raids and missions, able to have their own freedoms…

They'd agreed. This was their ticket to the top, to see what was at the bottom of this Kira mess.

Their current mission was to obtain some funds from a singer at a club that night. They'd had fourteen hours to plan the act itself and all the details, which had been more than enough. Presently, they sat in a rusted, dilapidated old van in an alley four blocks away from their target, the Blue Moon. Ramen sat in the driver's seat; his sole purpose that night was to act as chauffeur. Lina had shotgun, and Mello and Matt were seated in the middle of the vehicle. The van was still, the engine off. Matt reached for the door handle, when Lina turned around to peer at them. "Switch."

Mello's eyes narrowed in a question. "What?"

"Switch clothes."

Matt's own blue eyes widened dramatically. "What…?! Why the hell would we do that?"

"Your trademarks are your clothing. Switch, and you won't be as noticeable."

Ramen stifled a chuckle at the looks of horror on the two men's faces, visible in the rear-view mirror. Mello treated Lina to a death-glare as he slowly pulled down the zipper on his leather vest. But he couldn't hide a smirk of satisfaction as she _tried_ not to ogle at his well-sculpted chest and abdomen.

"Tried" being the key word.

"Are you kidding me?" Matt grumbled, finally ruffled. He didn't like the idea of wearing leather; it was too… restraining, too uncomfortable. But he threw his shirt and vest together at Mello's head, not much paying attention to what he was doing.

Mello was caught full in the face with a lot of fur. Disgruntled, he sighed and ripped the material off his head and shoved it to the floor before intentionally smacking his friend with the leather of his vest. Matt scowled at him, but gingerly shrugged on the vest. "So… uncomfortable…"

Meanwhile, Mello was complaining loudly about the static electricity that caused his hair to stick annoyingly to his face and neck as he tugged the fur-lined vest around over his striped shirt.

Lina giggled at their misgivings about the situation, which, in all reality, she was merely taking advantage of. There was no good reason for them to switch clothing… well, no one around here had seen them, anyway, so it was a moot point. In other parts of London, it might've been a good idea for them to change clothes…

And Mello didn't know why he hadn't put up a better fight for the right to wear his own clothes. He was attempting to convince himself that it was because he simply didn't feel like putting up a fight; he knew resistance was futile and would only delay them further. It wasn't like it really mattered, anyway. But somewhere, he knew that it was because he didn't want to start another fight with Lina, though his motives for _that_ were unknown. He told himself it was because fighting with her always got ugly…

"Trousers, too, or you'll both look like idiots," Lina ordered, then. She paused. "I said that as if you didn't both look like idiots before…"

Mello glared at her levelly and sighed in frustration, unzipping his leather pants. Matt did the same, and soon, the latter was completely pantless, revealing a pair of Mario-themed boxer shorts. Lina giggled at that. "Oh, nice, Dungeon Master! Nice…"

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" he said cheerily. "I like to play with my Wii!"

Saying something like that made Mello want to slap him. "Matt—"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mel!"

Mello glared at him blackly. "I _told_ you not to call me that…" he hissed quietly, in hopes that Lina wouldn't hear that. If she had, she'd start calling him "Mel" every time she saw him…

After watching Mello struggle for nearly a minute with his pants, Lina giggled softly. "What's-a matter, _Mel_? Having troubles?"

His blue eyes narrowed dangerously at her. "It's ninety degrees in here with no air conditioning, and these are all-leather pants, and I'm in a rather confined space. What do you think?!" He didn't bother correcting her on his name; she wouldn't heed his words, anyway.

Finally, he was able to remove them, and he swapped trousers with Matt. Mello was able to don the dark cargo pants rather quickly—they were large and baggy and easy to wear. Matt, on the other hand…

Matt was having even more difficulty with the leather. He squirmed and bucked, but to little avail. Several muttered curses were heard, and after he managed to get the leather up to his waist (about three minutes later), he stopped, flopping back down in the moth-eaten seat. "Geez, buddy! How do you WEAR these things?!" Mello offered no answer, and Matt began muttering how it was "probably because you're so much smaller than me—"

And that was it. Never mind that Matt was referring to hip size, for Mello was indeed more slender than Matt, who was admittedly a little stocky. Lina didn't care, and neither did Ramen. They both began positively _howling _with laughter…

…And Mello sat there, seething. He knew full well how they'd taken that comment, and he instantly whipped out his arm to backhand Matt for the remark. "Ow! Geez, I'm sorry, buddy, but you are!"

This started a whole new wave of hilarity in the front seats, and Mello growled audibly. Matt, by this point, was laughing, too. "You know, I really wonder if you've ever had an erection in these things… I don't know if I can even get them laced up! They're so damn small…"

Beneath his blond hair, Mello's face turned a deep magenta hue. He remained tight-lipped on the subject, not exactly desiring to get into a personal subject such as that. Admittedly, his leather trousers were rather tight, and it was easy to see how someone might think he didn't really have any substantial size because of it. Of course, it was also true that he'd been wearing the same style for almost seven years and had gotten used to wearing tight leather. To him, it was comfortable, now.

Apparently not to Matt and his wider hips…

"It's no wonder you're still a virgin," Matt commented lightly as he finally managed to lace up the leather trousers. "You can't ever get turned on in these things without killing your package completely…"

Silence…

"_BWAHAHAHAHAHA!_" Lina laughed explosively, her face completely red as she clutched the dashboard in her wild fit of laughter. Ramen chuckled in a rather condescending manner, and Matt's eyes widened as he realized his mistake. "YOU'RE A VIRGIN?!" Lina exclaimed. "OH MY GOSH… Ahahahaha!!" Tears of mirth streamed down her cheeks at the thought. "To think that the great Mello… eh hehehe! Everyone in this van has been laid but _you_."

"Oh, someone needs to take him home and deflower him!" Ramen suggested with a wicked grin. "Which way do you swing, man?"

That was the last straw. Mello's fingers closed tightly around the handle of his gun as though it were some kind of security blanket, and he quickly slid the door of the van open and hopped out, stiffly walking toward his destination of the club, but not before slamming the door behind him.

Lina, Matt, and Ramen all winced at the loud noise, and Lina instantly jumped out of the vehicle, still chuckling to herself as she ran after him with Matt at her heels. "Wait up, Mello!" she called.

He replaced his gun in one of his many pockets on his cargo pants and sighed as he continued down the street. "What for? The Three Stooges?"

"Hey!" Matt protested jokingly.

Lina said nothing for a moment. "We were only kidding around…"

Mello stopped in his tracks and turned to stare her in the face. Lina, being caught off-guard by his abrupt halt, slammed into his torso. Her face was a mere inch from his… and for a moment, her heart faltered. _He's got the bluest eyes I've ever seen…_ But she cleared her throat and backed up a few steps, reminding herself that he was, in all likelihood, a homosexual.

He stared deeply into her eyes for several moments, silent. "I would _prefer_ that you refrain from teasing me on such subjects, in the future."

Matt sighed. "Sorry, Mello." He scratched the back of his head, looking a little guilty. "Won't happen again…"

Lina shook her head solemnly, her red hair flipping around her face quickly.

"Hm." Mello took one look at them and about-faced, continuing on his way to the club.

"But I _am_ bigger," Matt added, unable to resist the opportunity to have the last word. Lina snickered, and Mello stiffened, but said nothing more.

* * *

They reached the club in a few short minutes. "Well, this is it," Matt said happily, staring at the door.

Mello grumbled something about a lack of chocolate. The slight weight of someone's hand landed on his shoulder. He turned around to see Lina there. "Here…" She pulled a rubber band off her wrist and handed it to him. "Tie your hair back. You'll look better that way."

"Hm." He snatched it from her fingers and roughly ran his hands through his blond tresses, doing as she requested. Matt nodded. He had to hand it to her, Mello did look better that way… at least, in those clothes. In his leather, a ponytail would probably just look stupid.

They were soon admitted to the club. Mello and Matt looked around at the tightly packed bodies, grinding, swaying, moving sensually against and between one another, the multicolored lights flashing in the darkness, adding to the chaos and confusion provided by the deafeningly loud music and pounding bass. A bar ran along most of the left wall, at which many people took refuge from the jumble of bodies. A few tables were located toward the front and back of the room, half of which were vacated. Mello immediately headed to the bar in search of some kind of chocolate martini (virgin, of course), and Matt bounded into the thick of the dance floor. Lina, after a pause, joined Mello at the bar.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked, yelling over the noise.

He didn't look at her for a few moments, and she repeated her question with even more volume. His eyes flicked over to her for a brief moment in acknowledgement of her query, and he exhaled slowly, taking a sip of his drink (for which the bartender had given him a very strange look). "Never better," he responded.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Several moments passed, wherein they said naught to each other. After about five minutes had passed, Lina shoulders shrugged slowly up and down in a sigh, and she turned to Mello. "Lighten up. Come on." She hopped off her barstool and stared at him expectantly.

"What?"

"Come on, let's dance!"

"Why?"

"It's fun!"

"Says who?"

"Me and everyone else here! Why, afraid you can't dance?"

"No!"

"Then let's go!"

Without further ado, Lina took hold of Mello's wrist and dragged him into the fray. With an irrepressible grin on her face, she began to move herself to the music in nothing that really resembled a cohesive dance, but more in a vaguely erotic kind of swaying motion that was also showcased by every other dancer in the room.

Her close proximity was startling to him. Mello's eyes opened wide, and he stood there awkwardly, hemmed in by other bodies. The rhythm of the base jarred his body through his feet, almost as though it were compelling him to join in and dance, to forget his cares and lose his mind to the raucous music.

Gradually, he began to move—only slightly at first. But he thought… _what the heck. Why not try and pass the time, try and blend in for a bit…_

Lina grinned at him as he began to move his body, using his hips as his center of gravity, leaning back slightly just as she did. She stepped infinitesimally closer, almost to the point of grinding her hips against his, but not quite…

He watched her expression, which, though her eyes were closed and her lips pursed just slightly, appeared to be one of mindless bliss. She was obviously enjoying herself. Her red hair, painted purple and indigo by the flashing lights, flipped erratically about her face as her head bobbed up and down, sometimes violently, sometimes gently. A passing someone knocked her forward, sending her off-balance and into Mello's arms. The first thing he noticed was her soft breasts pressing into his chest, then her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her nose nestled in the fur collar of his vest. But it was over in about half a second as she quickly backed up, wearing a look of derision for the one responsible for her fall.

But Mello was not so quick to forget it as she was; Lina shook her head and resumed dancing. He still felt the phantom weight of her slender body against his, and he liked it.

He moved just barely closer to her as he danced, almost daring to hope that someone would knock her into him once again…

But she stopped after a moment and tilted her face upward to look at him. A wry grin flitted about her lips, growing wider by the second. "Wow… uh… guess you're glad you're wearing Matt's trousers, huh?"

Mello gulped. He was hoping she wouldn't notice that… "Does it matter…?" he shot back, staring into her shocked eyes. And to his surprise, she just grinned and kept on dancing against him, teasing him by almost making contact with him, but never quite touching…

"I guess this proves that you're a guy after all!" she teased.

And Mello frowned, but did not further reply.

* * *

Gradually, the club's atmosphere began to die down, and as several of the occupants abandoned the dance floor for the tables, a slender woman approached a small platform by the DJ's station, and she began to sing. Admittedly, her voice was beautiful, and she was entertaining enough, but it was clear that the night's excitement was over and done with.

At two o'clock in the morning, the club was nearly empty. Lina jerked her head toward the door in the back of the room, gesturing for Mello and Matt to enter it. With a sigh, Mello stood and confidently headed for the door. "Uh… can I stay here?" Matt wondered softly.

Lina nodded and rolled her eyes, opting to follow Mello—the singer would know her and know that Mello was to be trusted. The transaction went quickly; the singer handed Mello a wad of bills (which Lina counted through quickly) and motioned for them to leave, which they did. Soon, they were back on the streets in the cool night air.

"Well, that was fun!" Lina said cheerily as they strolled down the sidewalk. Mello said nothing, instead looking toward the buildings just beside him as they walked. Matt limped behind, a goofy grin on his features. "Yeah… that was loads of fun… but DAMN, these pants hurt!!"

Lina snorted her laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth at his obvious predicament. Gradually, a tiny smile peeked at Mello's lips, and he allowed a quick chuckle. "We'll stop somewhere and grab you some ice," Lina offered jokingly. "How does that sound?"

"Probably a good idea," he muttered, obviously not liking that plan. But from his gait, which made him appear very bowlegged, he knew it was needed.

After a few moments of silence, Mello sighed and smoothly put his arm around Lina's shoulders. For a moment, she stiffened and her face glowed red in the streetlights, a snarky retort on her lips, but Mello roughly shoved her over toward the buildings on the side so that they'd switched positions. He know stood between the Lina and the road.

Lina swallowed her unspoken thoughts and instead looked at the sidewalk as they continued on their journey toward the van. _Is he… trying to be a gentleman? "Protecting" me from the cars…?_ It wasn't impossible. She remembered her own father doing something similar…

**.:FLASHBACK MODE:.**

_Her father gently placed his hand on her far shoulder and gently prodded her toward him. He sidled behind her until they'd switched positions: he was closest to the road, now. "What was that for, Dad?" she asked._

_He chuckled lightly. "The gentleman always stands between the lady and the cars, so he'll get hit first if there's an accident," he told her. "So I'm going to protect you."_

_A grin lit up her face in return. "Thanks, Dad! You're the best!"_

_"Just looking out for my girl, is all…"_

**.:END FLASHBACK:.**

She was seven at the time, and still remembered it. It was one of the few memories she had of her father. He'd been killed when she was eight…

Arson. She'd been the first one he'd rescued from their flaming home, and as he returned to retrieve her mother…

The house had collapsed.

She was "over it" now, but there was still the distant, wistful thought of "what might have been," had they lived… had she not been handed over to her aunt and uncle to live in London, to work in the Syndicate…

But as she glanced sideways at Mello's stolid expression, she could not help but be reminded of her father… just a little…

A tiny smile crossed her lips, and she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks, Mel."

"Don't call me that…" He said nothing regarding her thanks or his action, but remained focused on staring ahead.

A sigh and a quick whiff of smoke came from behind. Matt groaned miserably as he puffed on his cigarette. "Let's hurry up…" he whined. "I wanna get out of these pants… they're too restricting…"

_

* * *

_

Well, well... that was slightly fluffy... and pervy... and kind of sweet on Mello's part... who knew he had it in him? :) More Alex and Scout and Matt in the next chapter... oh, that should be VERY interesting... And maybe some Keiko and L, but maybe not.

Also, I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT!! I'M A COMPLETE AND UTTER BUM WHO DOES NOT DESERVE TO LIVE!!! Okay... maybe that's an exaggeration, but I am a lazy bum. There is only a certain length of time you can blame writer's block, and I might have run over that... I think my muse has packed up and left me for a tropical vacation in Tahiti, cuz I haven't seen him in a while. Yes, it's a "he." Anyway, I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and that you still like me.

Reviews are much appreciated! Even flames on how much of a lazy writer I am!


	17. Week from Hell, Part Two

**_Disclaimer: I'm not Tsugumi Ohba or Takeshi Obata; therefore, I don't own _Death Note.**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy **_(the pranks were all her ideas); aided by _**Madeline Cullen.**

**

* * *

**

CHAPTER 17 - **WEEK FROM HELL, PART 2**

* * *

Scout fought the urge to yank at her hair as she calmly stared at the three pranksters before her desk. During the past few days, they'd been raising hell within the walls of the once-peaceful Wammy's House. Whoever would've thought that L's own son was growing up to be a downright terror?

But Alex, Ferdy, and Sampson had no idea what they were doing in Scout's office. They'd been dragged there under unexplained circumstances, and there they were, completely lost. "Sorry, Miss Edwards," Sampson said calmly in a suave tone, "but what are we doing here?"

Scout's green eyes narrowed. "Don't play innocent. You three are the most likely suspects. Now, I'd like to know which one of you did it, and if not, who did and what evidence you have to back it up."

"Who did what?" Alex blurted out, confused. He was assuming they'd been caught for coating a room in Vaseline or hiding the computers… but best not to own up to that. Not until they knew what the action was.

"Gluing the coins all over the upstairs windows!" Scout said in a reasonably calm voice, though her eyes burned with fury. It was then that Alex noticed the few strands of hair that had freed themselves from her austere ponytail, the light bags under her eyes, and the slightly messy state of the desk. Scout was getting frazzled.

The three boys blinked a few times—none remembered even suggesting such a thing (though admittedly, it was a good idea… the coins would HAVE to remain in place all day, lest anyone attempting to remove the coins be burned by the sun's heat conducted through the metal).

"Sorry, we've got no idea what you're talking about," Alex said slowly.

It was evident that they truly were befuddled at the accusation, but neither could they tell who _had_ done it. "Sorry, but we've got no names for you, either," Ferdy drawled in his silky tone.

" 'Zactly!" Sampson added in an authoritative tone. "We haven't the slightest idea whose genius idea this could've been!"

Scout glared.

"What?! Everyone here's a genius; therefore it'd have to be a genius plan…"

Scout, after a long pause, gave a sigh. "You may go…" After the door shut behind them, she let her head fall down onto her desk with a _thunk!_ She was getting to be extremely stressed. What with Alex, Ferdy, and Sampson wreaking havoc all through the house, the new orphan, Estelle Rousseau (to be known as Emily to the House and the world), multiple complaints from teachers and pleas for enforced discipline, and with the general work involved in running a house full of genius orphans. Watari had suggested that she take a bit of time off, or possibly try and recruit someone to help her out, but Scout had coldly refused—her pride would've been dented, as it was only the trial period. If she'd truly been running the house, Scout wouldn't have hesitated to find one of the older children to help her.

_It's times like this I miss working with Near,_ she thought sullenly before catching herself. _Wait, what?! I miss working with that wannabe paraplegic twit?_

_Well, it was a less-stressful job, you have to admit…_

_"Less-stressful," how? He drove you insane! I was about to smash his head through a wall!_

Scout refused to think on the matter farther. While the tasks themselves were certainly less stressful, granted, Near himself was the catalyst of her stress. She wasn't really sure which job she preferred…

* * *

Not twenty minutes later, the entire orphanage was in an uproar: a handful of rabbits had been set loose in the building with numbers painted onto their fur. Within a half an hour, the teachers and older students had managed to catch rabbits one, two, three, and five, but no one knew where the fourth rabbit had gone. And so a search commenced…

Meanwhile, Sampson, taking advantage of the distraction of the rabbits, sneaked upstairs to Roger's office and released a squirrel in the room, quickly locking the door behind him. He snickered. No one would've guessed that they might've just had four rabbits and had skipped a number in order to confuse everyone…

By the time everyone figured this out and Roger returned to his office, his room would be in a shambles from the squirrel's attempts to burrow around and find an escape route. Or, if the creature didn't do any harm at all, it would surprise Roger to no end, and possibly escape in the building like the rabbits. Another fun game of chase to watch.

* * *

In the science lab, the youngest class (students had to be at least six to enter the lab, and at least eight to do any experiments that could not be performed in a regular classroom) was mixing water with the powder they'd all cut out of some disposable diapers. It was more of a fun experiment than anything else, but it gave Alex a brilliant idea. While the teacher's back was turned, he sneaked up to the supply cabinet and began switching prepared bags of powder in the cabinet with ones that he and Ferdy had fixed a few nights ago. These bags were filled with Jell-o powder or crushed Smartees mixed with minimal amounts of Alka-Seltzer powder—just enough to make some solutions overflow and cause some momentary panic. The new dust compounds could pass for chemicals until used, and as only the older classes (ages thirteen and up) were allowed to work with any _real_ chemicals, they could handle themselves and avoid getting burned or injured. It was a harmless, fun idea.

As he returned to his station, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Alex jumped. Thinking he'd been caught, he froze, nervously turning around. Standing there was a young girl his age. He'd never seen her before, but she was presumably one of the House. "Ah saw what you deed," she purred.

Immediately, Alex took note of several things. One, that she was French. That much was noticeable by her accent. _She can't have known English for very long,_ he gathered. Most of the children were good at noticing subtle differences between accents and were able to blend in with the English-speaking group fairly well without anyone being the wiser. Only a few had any trace of an accent, and even then, they were usually the new arrivals. Second, was that she was as much a troublemaker as he was—her expression was amused, not accusatory or upset in any way. Third, that she was quite pretty. Her blonde curls hung to her shoulders in pigtails, framing her plump, pink cheeks in an angelic fashion. Her blue eyes sang out innocence, and her ivory skin was evidence that she'd been pampered before she'd arrived at the orphanage—probably from some rich, aristocratic sort of family. She didn't seem moody or sorrowful, either, for all that she was newly orphaned; she probably didn't get to see her family much and had most likely been treated like a china doll with no spirit. It made sense; many children ignored by their parents resorted to pranks and diabolical schemes to garner attention.

"What are you go-eeng to do about eet?" he returned, mocking her accent playfully. Judging by the tiny smile that graced her lips, she'd find it amusing.

"Noh-sing," she replied. "Mah name eez Emily."

"Alex," he returned cordially. "How long have you been here?"

"Zees eez my first day of classes," she said smoothly. A pause followed, and she lowered her already-soft voice. " 'Ave you 'eard about ze coins on ze windows upstairs?"

"Yes…"

"Ah deed zat."

Alex's eyes were full of appreciation for her clever deed, and he allowed a tiny smile. "Good one," he said softly, seeing the teacher approaching.

"Alex, are you done?"

"Yes, ma'am!" He gingerly picked up his Petrie dish and showed the older woman, who looked at it carefully.

"You've mixed it very well, and there's no mess. Good job. Easy A."

Alex grinned like the accomplishment meant anything, and proceeded to clean up his utensils, washing them thoroughly beneath the tap. His ears caught the conversation between Emily and the teacher, and she praised the girl on her work, as well. Emily, too, gave a fake smile, and stood behind Alex for a turn to use the sink. "Hey, you wanna eat lunch with me?" Alex asked her.

She nodded and gave a genuine smile, looking positively cherubic. "Ah would like to, yes. Sank you, Alex."

* * *

Over an hour later, when everyone sat down for lunch in the dining hall, Alex and Emily sat beside each other, across from Ferdy and Sampson. "Hey, guys, this is Emily. Emily, meet Ferdy and Sampson."

"Hullo…"

"Hi…"

"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance," Emily greeted politely, beaming.

Sampson wrinkled his nose. "Why'd you bring a _girl_?!"

"Excuse me," Emily said harshly (or in an attempt to sound thus; she succeeded more in sounding adorably offended), "but mah gender means noh-sing."

Ferdy raised a single eyebrow, amused. Alex, too, grinned. "She's the one who put the coins upstairs!"

Both their mouths dropped open comically as they stared at seraphic Emily. "No… way…" Sampson breathed in awe.

Emily smiled beautifully. "May Ah join your leetle band of playing pranks?"

Alex had to smile widely at her usage of English. "Should we give her an initiation?"

"Yeah, see if she's really up to it," Sampson drawled, leaning back in his chair with a devilish grin. "See if she's really trustworthy."

"We'll talk with you tomorrow, Mademoiselle Emily," Ferdy said pompously. He lowered his voice, then, and said softly, "But from now on, you can't be seen with us, or they'll suspect you. Just hang with Alex for a bit, and we'll tell you what to do."

At her initial pout, Alex leaned over and said, "He means that we'll set up something where I'll offend you in some way, and you won't associate with us from there on out, at least, not in public."

"And Ah'll look eennocent but no one weell soh-speck-t us."

"And that's how the Mafia of Wammy's began," Sampson said with a huge smile, digging into his potatoes.

In a moment, a loud, frantic cry sounded faintly, followed by the slam of a door, and Roger appeared, looking pale as a ghost and about ready to have a heart attack. The comical expression on his face quickly faded into one of careful neutrality and he approached Quillish Wammy, who sat across the dining hall. Ferdy, Alex, and Sampson all snickered quietly, knowing the trouble, but they carefully avoided drawing attention to themselves and resumed eating their lunch…

* * *

The next day, L's vintage Mercedes Benz was covered in slices of ham, bacon, and eggs, which were sizzling happily on the metal as it was warmed by the sun. Thankfully, it was discovered before any damage to the paint could occur, but it was enough to frustrate Watari and Roger, especially after they'd spent half the night trying to rearrange his office and get everything back in order after the squirrel had been set loose. Then at lunch, the word "POOP" had been applied to the front wall in Silly String. All the younger children had laughed, finding the graffiti extremely hilarious, while the older kids shook their heads in disdain. Both pranks were executed by Emily, to Alex's extreme amusement and admiration. He'd spoken to Ferdy and Sampson, who'd still been wary of the newcomer, but Alex insisted that she be allowed to join their escapades.

So Emily joined the Wammy's Mafia.

* * *

That evening, around eight-thirty, several shrill screams penetrated the orphanage's old walls. Scout, Watari, and Roger all came running to the girl's restroom, where they found a group of girls outside, huddling in their towels and pointing to the bathroom.

Scout was sent in to deal with the problem, which turned out to be a score of frogs set loose in the showers. A trio of young, adventurous girls were attempting to catch them all, and with a heavy sigh, Scout joined in. It didn't take long for the frogs to be removed, but most of the girls were too scared to resume their showers—they resorted to taking sink baths, instead.

A soft tap sounded on Alex's door. Rising from the floor, where he'd been doing his math homework (or trying to, anyway), he padded over to the door and opened it. "Emily?" She smiled, and he quickly pulled her in and shut the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah set some frogs loose een ze girls' showers!" she announced proudly. "Does zat make you happy?"

Alex blinked and stared. "You did that!? But you were screaming outside the door when I saw…" To satisfy his curiosity, he'd gone to see what the cause of the commotion and had seen Emily outside, as well.

"Ah faked zat," she said smugly. "Was zat not good?"

_This girl is brilliant!_ Alex thought ecstatically. "Good? That was amazing!" He honestly didn't know how he was going to "offend" her tomorrow; she was shaping up to be a very intriguing friend. "Wow, you've got some great ideas… Hey, I'm heading over to Ferdy and Sampson's room tonight at ten to discuss some plans. You should come."

"Sank you," she said with a perfect smile. "Ah weell."

That evening, as the four sat in that small bedroom discussing what course of action should next be taken, Alex had an idea. "Wait a minute, guys—remember Mello, his friend Matt? Yeah, well, Matt's probably got some great ideas!"

This was hailed to be "worth a try," at the least, and Alex took his cell phone and dialed Matt's number. He'd seen it once in his mother's Contacts list and he'd remembered it easily.

_"Yo…"_

"Matt! Hi, hi! It's Alex!"

There was a pause. _"Alex, buddy! What's up? Haven't talked to you in ages! Howya been?"_

Alex smiled at his older friend's trademark alacrity. "Great! You?"

_"I'm busy, but I'm on top of the world." _The briefest of silences followed, and Matt continued. _"What's the trouble?"_

"We need some ideas."

_"Who's 'we,' and what kinds of ideas…?"_

Alex grinned. "Well, me, and Ferdy, and Sampson, and this new girl Emily, we're trying to come up with some ideas of tricks we can play."

A loud laugh echoed through the receiver; Ferdy, Sampson, and Emily all heard this and chuckled amongst themselves. _"No!"_ he exclaimed. _"That's brilliant, mate! Following in me and Mel's footsteps, aye?"_

"Definitely! All this week, we hid a bunch of timers in a classroom, and we mixed the laundry and it all turned funny colors, and we switched the textbooks with comics, and we but Jell-o in the kitchen faucets so it looked like blood…" He briefed Matt on what they'd all done so far, and the result was extreme hilarity on the other end of the line.

* * *

In downtown London, a certain royal blue-haired young man was guffawing in an abandoned hotel room, attempting to control himself enough to breathe. Mello threw a pillow at his head. "Shut up, for God's sake…"

"Oh, geez—oh, hahahaha!! Alex, I _love_ you, mate! Bloody freaking brilliant!!"

"Pipe down and take it outside," Mello growled, pointing to the balcony.

Still laughing, Matt got to his feet and stumbled outside, leaning against the concrete wall and lighting a cigarette as he chuckled. "Alex… that's brilliant. Brilliant." He paused and took a drag on his cigarette. "Now… haha… ideas. Let's see…"

* * *

The first development was a set of codenames for everyone, just to make it more fun. Alex was named the Covert Commander and was to be second in command. Ferdy was the General, and was the one who worked mostly behind the scenes. Matt himself was dubbed God, Emily was the Evil Ninja, and Sam was jokingly called Delilah. He protested at this, as did Matt, who asserted that he should be called Spade. "Sam Spade, anyone?" he'd joked, but they were all too young to have even heard of the fictional gumshoe. Finally, Sam was called Ace, since he was so good at cards.

Next was a task for Ferdy, involving hacking and a slide show…

* * *

"Covert Commander, the eagle has landed."

Alex grinned at Sampson's words as he sat down beside him for math class. "Excellent, Ace."

"The General's in HQ."

"Right-o."

Mr. Collins walked a little stiffly into the classroom and sat down at his desk—not before checking the seat to make sure he wasn't about to sit on something nasty. Just as he opened his mouth to greet the class, a loud, blaring noise issued from the speakers of the television in the corner of the classroom. Each of the rooms had a television monitor that played a variety of channels as well as announcements from Wammy's. Typically, it was a scrolling Powerpoint show that listed the breakfast, lunch, and dinner menus of the week, special events (if any), and quotes of the day, student achievements, et cetera. Ferdy had hacked into the main computer network and altered the slideshow to show a red-haired singer over a white background, accompanied by ridiculously loud music.

_Never gonna give you up  
Never gonna let you down  
Never gonna run around and desert you  
Never gonna make you cry  
Never gonna say goodbye  
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you..._

"You've been RICK ROLL'D!" proclaimed loud purple text overtop the music video.

Mr. Collins at his desk buried his face in the palm of one hand and fought valiantly to keep from laughing aloud, but his attempts were in vain. He hadn't seen that blast from the past for several years!

The students were all giggling at the disruption (it was far too loud to teach anything), but very few of them truly understood the joke, which was evident. All-in-all, this was probably the funniest prank yet—that is, everyone thought it amusing. There were no real victims. Finally, however, classes were dismissed and a search for the culprit began. But Ferdy had covered his trail well, and was not going to be caught any time soon.

* * *

Later that afternoon, another plan was set in action that had been organized the previous night. Emily had requested her science teacher if she could go to the bathroom, _s'il vous plait_; of course, she'd given in. Emily was too angelic and adorable to resist!

As she was strolling down the hall to the "bathroom," Emily pulled a stool from her room, and using a yardstick, coaxed a certain string that had been pinned to the ceiling tiles down to her level. Quickly, her supplies were replaced within her room, and she tugged on the string, quickly fleeing the scene and dredging up some fake tears by pinching the skin on her arm.

"Madame Stranahan!" cried Emily as she burst into the room. "Eet smells _très horrible!_"

Mrs. Stranahan ventured forth into the hallway. "I don't smell anything…"

"Fur-zer down!"

Tentatively, she kept going, and a horrendous stench pervaded her nostrils. "Oh—merciful heavens…!" Coughing, she took shelter in the classroom and quickly shut the door behind her. "Goodness…"

Alex frowned, the picture of concern. But inwardly, he rejoiced. _Matt, you're a genius_. _Those stink bombs we rigged up are working splendidly!_ They'd set up a row of them in the ceiling tiles so that, when the string was pulled, it would set off a chain reaction, and every five feet or so, a stink bomb would go off. They'd put up six in all.

That afternoon, Wammy's was evacuated so that it could be fumigated while the children were sent to play in the yard. The day had been with virtually no classes. Outside, under the shade of an oak tree, Alex, Ferdy, and Sampson all grinned at one another. "Mission accomplished, men," Sampson said smugly, crossing his arms triumphantly.

Alex flashed a smile to Emily, who was sitting several yards away, sitting demurely in the shade. She nodded infinitesimally and smiled right back.

* * *

But Friday was the cake topper. Alex, Ferdy, and Sampson had gathered a few friends together and at the same time, they flushed all but three of the toilets in the orphanage at once, thus overflowing the septic system and filling the house with yet another horrendous stench. At this development the now-furious Watari, Roger, and Scout agreed that the children would be taken to a hotel in Winchester for the night while they brought in a team of plumbers to fix the septic tank and they called another team back in to fumigate the house for the second consecutive day.

This had been the final of Matt's ideas, and he was very proud of it—as were Alex, Ferdy, Sampson, and Emily.

That evening, the rumor spread that Quillish Wammy had been overheard discussing the probability of the installation of a surveillance system with cameras in every room. This would be an end to many of the pranks, but still… it had been an exciting week for the children. That week, the second week of August, 2011, would live in infamy as The Week From Hell.

Scout, however, was _not_ amused. On Saturday, after everyone had gotten settled back into their rooms, she decided to pay Keiko and L a little visit. She didn't have proof, but she just _knew_ that Alex had been involved in all this somehow. And while she couldn't punish him without the evidence, she _was_ going to speak with his parents, who would certainly understand about her suspicions. And if there was anyone who could do anything about it, it was the world's greatest detective and his wife.

Unfortunately, Saturday was the students' day off. Alex, Ferdy, and Sampson were playing a game of water tag on the bright green turf of Wammy's lawn, along with several other students, all of whom were prominently soaked.

Alex smiled as he caught sight of Scout crossing the grass. An evil grin crossed his chubby face, and he turned to Sampson. "Hey, guys, check this out…" He carefully uncoiled a length of hose connected to the orphanage and turned the spigot… aimed…

A shrill scream pierced the air as Scout was sprayed with the cold water. Sampson ran to turn off the spigot and Alex dropped it in the grass and ran before Scout could regain her wits and find the culprit. By the time she'd wiped her eyes clear of water, it was impossible to tell who'd been responsible for the deed.

Her green eyes glared murderously at the children, who laughed and laughed as they paused their game to stare at Scout, but she held her chin high, turned on foot, and continued toward her destination, more determined than ever. _Alex… you little bugger, I swear, if I can't have your hide, then your parents will have the honor…_

* * *

Despite the fact that Lawliet had been generous enough to give her a motorcycle, a week had passed and Keiko was getting rather tired of the lack of affection. She still didn't doubt that he loved her, but the lack of communication was beginning to really grate on her nerves. She sighed as she stood to carry a few of the dishes from evening meal from the table to the kitchen sink. Well, at least she and Misa could be occupied with washing dishes… Lately, they'd taken to doing everything manually instead of by machine, as they could have, just to take up time.

But as she began running the water to fill up the sink, two firm hands held her hips and quickly, so quickly she almost missed it, a pair of lips pressed against her cheek. Keiko smiled and she turned her head quickly over her shoulder to see Ryuzaki still standing there, a tiny half-smile on his face. "Grazi per il pasto, Keiko," he said in his velvety tone. (1)

"You're welcome," she responded softly. Her smile widened when she felt his wild hair brushing against her cheek, his hands still at her waist.

"I miss you," he whispered in her ear. He softly inhaled before continuing. "Mm, I find that this is getting to be rather trying. I am quite tempted to lock them both up in the basement and take you up to our bedroom for a wonderful evening of conversational and physical intimacy… and maybe watch a movie, if you so desire." It was understood that the movie would serve mostly as background noise.

"I like that plan," she said quickly. "Are you serious, or are you just saying you'd like to do that?"

"Ryuzaki, come on…" Light muttered in a bored tone. He didn't want to watch his former babysitter-slash-old friend getting lovey-dovey with his archrival.

But Lawliet ignored the young man's protest. "Mm, as much as I would love to, I'm afraid I cannot." Keiko wilted at his words. "But…" His nose pressed gently into her hair as continued, lowering his voice even further. "I can assure you, the confinement will most likely end within a day or two."

"Why not now, if you already know?"

But his answer never came, owing to the loud knock on the front door. Keiko scowled. "Now of all times?" But Lawliet handed her the key to her handcuffs, just in case, and she peeked out the window to catch a glimpse of whoever was at the door. It was Scout, and she was completely soaked…

Hastily, Keiko inserted the key into the handcuffs and shooed Misa (still attached to the chain) into the kitchen with Lawliet and Light before opening the door. "Hey, Scout…" But she paused in her smile as she caught sight of the young woman's flat look.

"We need to talk, Mrs. L…"

* * *

(1—"Thanks for the meal" in Italian.)

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SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING I HAVE NO EXCUSE BUT IF YOU KILL ME I CAN'T EVER FINISH THIS STORY AND IT'S ABOUT TO GET MORE INTERESTING WHICH SHOULD BE MORE INCENTIVE FOR ME TO WRITE SOONER!!! Ahem... ah... well, then... Now that I've said that, I have to also inform you all of some bad news. The Keiko mascot is NOT going as planned. If anyone knows how to work the MaCoPiX software for interactive desktop mascots, I'd love to hear from you, because we're having some technical difficulties. The animation is done, but I can't get the program to work. I've tried and tried... probably spent about 4 hours trying to make it work and I've only gained a little headway. Or if someone knows how to work another software that's similar...? PLEASE HELP!!!

REVIEWS MAKE ME MOTIVATED TO WRITE SOONER!!


	18. Chain of Fools

_Betcha didn't think I'd update this soon, didja?! Haha!! (It's _**iceblueangelfang**_'s fault... she threatened me with flying chinchillas.) Haha, jk. But the review made me scared and amused..._

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_Disclaimer: It's published on ffnet. Whaddaya think about my ownership rights to_ Death Note?

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy; **_helped by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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CHAPTER 18 - CHAIN OF FOOLS

_In which L and Keiko learn of their son's actions and think of how to discipline him properly._

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A loud knock on the front door. Keiko scowled. "Now of all times?" But Lawliet handed her the key to her handcuffs, just in case, and she peeked out the window to catch a glimpse of whoever was at the door. It was Scout, and she was completely soaked…

Hastily, Keiko inserted the key into the handcuffs and shooed Misa (still attached to the chain) into the kitchen with Lawliet and Light before opening the door. "Hey, Scout…" But she paused in her smile as she caught sight of the young woman's flat look.

"We need to talk, Mrs. L…"

Keiko frowned her confusion but stepped aside to allow Scout entrance. "Let me get you some towels…" Hastily, she retreated to the bathroom across the parlor and returned with a few of the fluffy things, handing them to the disgruntled young woman. "What's… going on?"

They both slowly made their way to the living room to seat themselves, and Keiko looked at Scout expectantly (she was slightly busied trying her hair with one of the towels, shivering in the cool of the air conditioned room). "You will remember the telephone call Roger made a week ago concerning Alex's behavior?"

Keiko nodded and paled, knowing that for a personal visit to be made, things had progressed to be much worse than she'd imagined. "What's he done…?"

Scout sighed. "A great many things for which we have no evidence to say that it was him, except mere suspicion. I've decided to leave it in your hands—if Alex is guilty, you or L will soon know, and as his parents, you'll have the right to discipline him as you see fit. If not, then we've not been responsible for punishing him unjustly."

"I understand." Keiko leaned forward and buried her face in her palms with an exasperated groan. "I'll have to talk to Lawliet… he doesn't want the kids seeing what we're up to at the moment…"

At this, Scout's green eyes narrowed. "And what exactly are you _up to_? I'm not the only one who's questioning you, either. Mr. Wammy knows about it, and I'm sure he's told Roger vaguely what's going on, but for the two of you to need a month to yourselves to solve a case…? Alex and Aimi are both clueless. Besides, you could easily keep your work a secret from them…"

"It's not exactly that simple, Scout," Keiko said dully. "I wish it were." She stood. "I'm going to talk to L for a second—I'll be right back down. Would you like some milk…?"

"Please," Scout said desperately. For Scout, milk was like alcohol—an addictive substance to which she turned to drown her problems. The only difference was the lack of side effects, aside from stronger bones and healthier skin, and who was she to complain about that?

So Keiko watched as Scout headed to the kitchen to fix herself the milk while Keiko trudged upstairs to the office, where L, Light, and Misa were now waiting. "Ryuzaki…" Keiko sighed, "you'd better come downstairs."

"May I inquire why my presence is necessary?"

"No, you may not," Keiko replied imperiously. "Things will be explained soon enough."

Wordlessly, he complied; she was obviously not wanting to blurt out something in front of Misa and Light, and he'd heard her say that it was Scout at the door. Keiko had a good reason, he knew, and now was not the time to toy with her. Soon, the cuffs were off and the two ex-Kiras were left in the office by themselves.

Lawliet drew his knees up to his chin as he sat on the sofa adjacent Scout. Keiko took a seat beside him, crossing her arms under her chest (always a danger sign). Quickly, Scout briefed them on what sorts of incidents had been occurring at the orphanage over the past week, and how she was only highly suspicious of Alex's involvement. Granted, some antics were indisputably his and he'd received extra discipline for them, but the latest scandals were quite untraceable unless professionally investigated. However, both Lawliet and Keiko trusted Scout; she would not accuse their son without reason.

"I understand…" Lawliet murmured, chewing on his thumbnail distractedly. He was definitely off in his own world, trying to piece together a reason for his son's rebellion. Alex had always been such a good kid! A trifle feisty, perhaps, and he definitely had a mind of his own, but he'd not foreseen things getting this… out of hand!

"That said," Scout began, "I would like to add that I'm sure he's the one who sprayed me with the garden hose just now, and I'd also like to add that I'd like to know what's keeping the two of you from seeing Alex and Aimi, who would also like to know why they've suddenly been exiled."

Lawliet blinked. He wasn't immediately sure how to relate the situation to Scout…

"Shouldn't we tell them… something, L?" Keiko muttered dryly. "We can trust Scout. And we know the kids… won't understand, so we'll have to explain it to them ourselves, but…" She sighed.

Feeling a bit outnumbered (not that it'd ever stopped him before), Lawliet grunted. "We've brought in some help to work on the Kira case, and… while not exactly the most reputable people, they've aided us well. I do not wish my children to… associate with criminals."

"Like Matt and Mello, or Scout, or Juro, or Amy… or _you_," Keiko cut in, staring pointedly at the far wall.

Scout's nostrils flared. "I see…"

Lawliet stubbornly said nothing.

It seemed that at this point, Keiko was fed up. She stood and locked her hands into claw-like formations, obviously attempting to exercise some self-control. "Look, Scout… during the last Kira case, we didn't actually give anyone the death penalty. At my request… L let the two culprits go." Scout's green eyes widened at Keiko like she was completely shocked, but her face remained composed. "It's long and complicated and I'll explain later, but… we know they're safe, but L's methods… aren't always that… well…"

"In order to observe them properly and to ascertain that neither of them were guilty of any new deaths, I had them both handcuffed to myself and Keiko."

Both women were a little surprised that Lawliet had owned up to it. "I… see…" Scout said quietly. "So you're assuming there's a new Kira operating."

"Yeah, and he's got nothing to do with the old suspects," Keiko added. "He _says_ we're going to let them off soon, but…" The implication at her hanging sentence was that she had heavy doubts as to whether or not Lawliet actually would follow his word; a ridiculous notion, everyone knew, but Scout easily understood Keiko's frustration. She was living with a pampered genius who simply _had_ to have his way… and he did have good motives for his actions, but they were difficult to live with, sometimes. Keiko's stamina was really quite something, no doubt a result of her deep love for her shaggy-haired husband… who currently looked rather put out. He seemed to sulk just slightly, pouting, almost. Not that it was obvious, and Scout probably hadn't noticed, but Keiko certainly did.

_Good, I'm glad SOMETHING'S gotten to him, finally…_ She crossed her arms over her chest and thrust her tongue into her cheek, signaling her anger. Yes, she was going to make him beg—if she could. It probably wouldn't work unless she took more drastic measures, but at least it would eventually procure repentance on his part.

"We're bringing them back tonight," she said with a pointed glare at Lawliet, and headed upstairs.

Scout rose from the couch. "Good luck, L."

"Mmm…" He didn't really give a proper response, instead opting to toy with his lower lip as he stared at the floor. The sound of the front door closing seemed to jerk him from his reverie, and he finally stood and belatedly followed Keiko up the stairs and to their bedroom.

Keiko was sitting on the edge of the mattress, thoroughly incensed, but saddened. The next step would be contemplating methods of discipline for their son's behavior as well as how to make it up to him, for surely that was the problem: he'd become upset with the unexplained distance and had tried to gain their attention by acting out of line.

"Tenshi…?"

"Oh, shut your face, you bastard."

His eyes widened slightly before relaxing into a look of half-lidded penitence. "Believe it or not, I actually preferred 'asshole' to that…"

She rounded on him, eyes practically flaming with emotion. "Oh, this is a step _wa-a-a-a-ay_ beyond asshole! You've really done it, this time! If you'd just let them see us once a week—heck, just once in this entire miserable month! Alex needs us—Aimi needs us… and you just pretend like we can go back to the way we were in Tokyo. We were able to do crazy things back then because we weren't tied down. That was then, but we have to think of how the kids feel!"

"I'm fully aware of this, Keiko," he said quietly, but his voice held a faintly dangerous quality. So he was angered at her accusation? Why?!

"It was _your_ idea in the first place! I've been against this from the start!"

"You could've spoken up about this sooner."

"Oh, sooner? How much sooner? I spent a day camping out in the bathroom just to show how much I hated the idea, five minutes after I learned about your plans!" she snapped back. "Don't tell me _sooner_ anything!"

"You never once mentioned the children." Something in his quiet voice made her stop. "If you were concerned about them, you didn't say so for a good many days."

Keiko hung her head. He was right. She was only trying to point the finger at him, when in fact, she had as much fault as he. If she'd thought to bring up the possible danger of Alex doing something so incredibly drastic as breaking the rules so blatantly and causing all sorts of trouble just to get some attention from his parents…

With a heavy sigh, Keiko sat back down on the edge of the mattress. "I guess neither of us saw this coming. I'm sorry…" Lawliet sat beside her, observing her carefully as she twisted her hands in her lap. "Just… I probably could've done something to stop all this if I'd just thought to give them a phone call every couple of days, asked to go over and check up on them or something… Dammit, I'm such an idiot…"

"We both could have thought of those things," he amended. "Do not make the mistake of believing that this is your responsibility. Simply because you make one error does not make you an idiot, Keiko."

"But how many idiotic choices do you have to make before you really are an idiot?! Huh?"

"I would say that the degree of idiocy of the choices made is a factor."

"Forgetting about our kids is pretty idiotic!"

He wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Keiko, please. If that is an idiotic decision, then by all this logic you've argued, I, too, am an idiot."

For a moment, she paused and sniffed, staring at the carpet as she thought of the best response to this assertion. "I'm torn between agreeing with you and refuting that…"

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and Lawliet dried his thumb of saliva on his shirt before wiping away the tear that had managed to spill from Keiko's eye. "Mm, I understand. However, we cannot simply mourn our decisions. We must decide how to deal with Alex."

It dawned on Keiko that this was their first time alone in weeks, and it wasn't remotely how she'd pictured it. They weren't happily embracing in their joy of simply being alone, or attempting to remove their clothing, or even just talking joyfully with one another. No, they were discussing how to discipline their son for his disobedience that had been fueled by his unfulfilled need for attention.

"_And_ I'm pregnant," she mumbled. "At least it's not raining…"

Lawliet said nothing, thinking this a very odd thing to mention at the moment. "The question still remains, how are we to handle this situation?"

She exhaled. "I don't know… It's our fault for being sucky parents, but he should've known better, so we can't be terribly hard on him… and unfortunately, a lecture isn't going to help at all. He'll probably just dismiss it and not even care…" Feeling utterly pathetic, Keiko leaned over onto Lawliet's shoulder and groaned. "Being a parent sucks."

"Don't say such ridiculous things, tenshi. I, for one, enjoy it, most of the time."

Another sigh followed, and she allowed a smile. "I know. Me, too. But right now…"

"I understand."

* * *

Just over an hour later, Keiko was sprinting barefoot across the now-soaked grass toward the Wammy's House, desperate to see her children in person. She was not about to wait for them to be brought home by Watari or Roger. No, she was going to see her son and daughter as soon as possible.

The moment she got through the doors of the orphanage, Keiko hastily wiped her feet clear of mud and bounded down the hall to Roger's office, as Watari, in the absence of an office of his own, could've been anywhere. "ROGER!"

The white-haired man jumped at his desk, then clutched his chest over his heart as he gasped, staring at Keiko. "Please, don't do that…"

"Sorry," she said as she clung to the doorframe breathlessly. "I've come to get Aimi and Alex… where are their rooms?"

"One-oh-two and one-thirteen," he said quickly, waving a hand at her dismissively, but Keiko was already gone.

She reached room 102 first and peeked inside. It was obviously Alex's room, but he was not present. Undeterred, she made her way down the hall to Aimi's room, to find her sitting at her desk in mimicry of her father as she stared at a book. Quickly, the girl's head swiveled around to peer at Keiko. Her grey eyes widened just slightly, and a huge grin split her face in two. "Mommy!" She nimbly hopped down from her chair and quickly closed the distance between the two of them. Keiko dropped to her knees and embraced her daughter, unable to keep a brilliant smile of her own from her features.

"I'm so sorry! I've missed you so much…"

"I've missed you and Daddy," Aimi admitted freely, tightening her hold around her mother's neck. "Did you catch Kira?"

"No, not yet, love. This Kira is being much more… secretive… than the last one."

"Oh… He must be," Aimi declared importantly, "or else Daddy would have caught him already. Daddy can catch anyone."

This amused Keiko. "Given time, I'm sure he could."

Finally, they broke off their embrace and stared at one another for a few moments. "Come on, let's pack up your things," she said with a smile. "You and your brother are coming back home."

"And you'll never send me back again, right?"

Keiko nodded confidently. If she had to fight Lawliet to enforce the rule, she would make sure that they were never _sent_ back again. "Never ever. Cross my heart and kiss my elbow."

Aimi nodded decisively. "Good."

* * *

Alex trudged through the halls of the orphanage toward his room, laughing as he bid a temporary adieu to his friends. They'd just come in from the woods and were about ready to clean up separately from the leaves, grass, mud, and bracken that had clung to their forms so easily. For all it was only mid-afternoon, they needed some fresh clothes… though they'd probably go outside later, anyway—possibly after dark so as to catch fireflies and then release them after a few moments of fascinated staring. But as he passed his sister's room…

The familiar voice of his mother caught his ears and he looked to see Keiko helping Aimi pack her bags.

One part of him nearly shouted for joy then and there, but he stopped. So… she was helping the _favorite_ back, first, huh? Hmph. Typical. Didn't even look for him.

Keiko thought she caught a glimpse of something or someone in the doorway and turned to see Alex standing there. Her eyes lit up, but she, too, paused, for his eyes regarded her with a cold, aloof manner that she'd never seen on him before (or someone as young, for that matter)... but that expression...

She'd seen it on Light Yagami's face, back when he'd been acting as Kira...

It _scared_ her.

"Alex, we're going home today, so pack up," Aimi told him imperiously, as if he hadn't known—but it was an effective ice breaker.

"You finish up, Aimi," Keiko told her gently. "Let me go help your brother…"

"I can pack by myself!" he snapped.

Keiko, taken aback by his vehemence, opened her eyes wide. "I didn't doubt that at all; I just thought you might want some help to make it go more quickly, or perhaps some company… It's been a while since we've seen you…"

"Yeah, well, I don't," he answered with a haughty air.

Even when he left at that to pack in solitude, Keiko persisted in following him. "Alex, we need to talk."

"Oh, right, then. Let's _talk_, Mother. About how much you love your family? About how much I mean to you? Jolly good, then. Carry on."

The effect was as if Alex had run a javelin through her heart. It just compounded the already substantial guilt she felt for the transgression. At that moment, Keiko's first impulse was to go back to the house, find Lawliet, and cry into his shoulder for a good hour. She pushed the urge aside, only to feel the wish for Alex to come running back, bright-eyed and smiling, into her arms. Also impossible, judging from his words, demeanor, expression, and list of recent offenses. But she followed him, nonetheless, and closed the door behind her when they reached his bedroom. "Alex… you need to know that your father and I feel horrible for how we've basically abandoned you… but we did have a reason."

"Oh, a damn good one, I'll bet," he spat back, the profanity sounding incredibly potent coming from his innocent child's lips.

"Alex, watch your mouth!" she interjected, narrowing her eyes.

"Whatever." He shrugged. "So what was the reason? So you could solve a case? I'm not as stupid as you think I am! What case were you solving that you just couldn't have us in the house?!"

"Alex, we don't think you're stupid!"

"Right funny way of showing it, you've got…"

Keiko's eyes narrowed as she watched him violently shoving wads of clothing into a duffel bag. "Since when have we ever insinuated that you're anything less than genius? Alex, you're brilliant!"

He just shrugged. "Sure. Explains so much."

"Anything else you'd like to lay out on the table, while you're at it?" Keiko asked a little stiffly as she stood beside the door. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes at the hatred her son was displaying. She'd known this was a possible reaction, but she'd hoped against it… and even expecting it still hadn't entirely prepared her for it.

"Now that you mention it, what the hell were you and Dad up to?" he asked, his voice a little less harsh. This was more sorrowful, Keiko saw—he was incredibly and deeply hurt by their lack of communication. "Expect me to believe you were on a case? That you still love me after kicking me out of the nest?"

"Yes, we do." Keiko and Alex both turned to the door to see Lawliet standing in the doorway, his face a mask of impenetrability. "Please continue packing your things, Alex, and meet us in the foyer in fifteen minutes. We'll finish this discussion at home."

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Oooh... Alex is gonna be IN for it...

_Thanks, _**ActionFry**_, for (inadvertantly) giving me the idea of posting a vereh brief summary of what happens before each chapter, that way you guys who don't wanna read certain Rated M parts (btw, this story is rated T-ish unless otherwise stated) can still get a clear idea of what's going on. And just so you know, there shouldn't be much more M-rated stuff, except maybe some violence in the end... mwahaha, tantalize your tastebuds a little bit! :) Anyway, REVIEW FOR ME PLEASE!! Scout and Near get most of next chapter to themselves!!_


	19. Killer Instinct

_**FINALLY!!! I CAN POST!!! I've had this chapter done for almost two days, now, and I'm only just now able to post it... sheesh...**_

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_Disclaimer: Me no own the_ **Death Note _or its characters…_**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; given advice by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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CHAPTER 19 - KILLER INSTINCT

_In which Scout returns to her room and Near reaches a conclusion._

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Scout slammed the door of her room with a vengeance, completely and utterly enraged at the world in general. Alex had lit the fuse that would eventually lead to her inevitable explosion, and it was not far off. Perhaps it was best for her to remain in her room for the rest of the day, have Watari take over for a few hours…

_No,_ she told herself. _Things like this are bound to happen on a regular basis. I have to remain strong… strong, and calm._

_Perhaps I should take some milk back to the office… that should cool me down…_

With a sigh, Scout stripped off her wet football jersey and the long-sleeved T-shirt beneath.

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Near quietly padded down the halls of the orphanage in search of Scout. It had been ten days since she'd stopped caring for him; four days since he'd even seen her. Slowly, steadily, since then, he'd begun to take notice of the strange, hollow feeling in his chest, like something was missing… But it was more than sheer emotion. It was physically affecting him in a way that he was at a loss to explain. After nearly a week of thought, Near had come to the conclusion that Scout's absence had produced a negative effect on him. His performance as L was slipping ever so slightly… This change was likely only known to him, but that was enough—he'd noticed. It took a lot to ruffle Near, but it appeared that Scout had succeeded in this endeavor, unintentional though it was.

And so, he'd resolved to see her, to address this issue. He listened to every last sound in the hallway: the faint creak of the floorboards beneath the yellow-brown-orange-green commercial carpet that smelt of must; the soft rustling of his clothing as he moved; the quiet thuds of his footfalls as he walked. The lack of all other sound made his own noises that much louder; Near was tempted to stop and begin tiptoeing in order to preserve the silence, but that was a foolish notion. Why should he be afraid of the lack of noise?

Around the corner, a door slammed. Near frowned. It was likely Scout who had done so; only the guardians and workers roomed down that hall, and no one he knew would commit such a childish act. And an adult would've made more noise moving down the hall if angry enough to slam a door…

And suddenly, there he was, at Scout's door. Carefully, very carefully, Near turned the doorknob…

Scout didn't hear the door open or close after her, but she _did_ hear the sharp intake of breath.

Scout did not bother with an explanation or even giving the intruder a chance. Without thinking, her mind snapped into "knife first, ask questions later" mode. The instinctual survivor, thought to be buried too deeply beneath her new façade of sanguinity was now emerged, and there was to be no recovery.

Scout had now lost the battle with herself, the battle she'd been waging ever since she'd left Brooklyn for Winchester—for Wammy's House. Scout was now forgotten completely, and she was once again Shea Barlow, hardened Brooklyn gang leader and delinquent—switchblade and all.

Near was pinned against the wall forcefully, a sharp blade at his throat. Shea's green eyes blazed at him, and for the first time in his existence, he feared for his life. He would not be harmed, he knew, but… a blade at one's throat tends to spike one's adrenaline levels, no matter what the situation, and currently, his heart was pounding a furious tattoo in his throat. He could actually feel the sharp edge of the blade sink infinitesimally farther into his soft skin each time his heart beat.

"What… are… you… doing?" Shea growled in a demon's guttural tone.

Near blinked, eyes wide. "I…" He didn't get much farther. His object was merely to request that Scout allow herself to see him once a week, for he'd deduced that his lowered performance level was directly linked to Scout's presence. But… perhaps now was not the best time to inform her of that…

This was not Scout. This was not the cold, calculating young woman he knew… No, this was a seasoned criminal, a savage beast who wouldn't hesitate to fight.

But… it wasn't Shea, either… Shea was a happy-go-lucky young girl who liked to giggle and play with her father. Shea was long dead.

Scout didn't really know _who_ she was at that point—and neither did Near. For several moments, they stared at one another in utter silence, unable to move, unable to breathe… A static-laced stasis stretched between them. Who would be the first to shatter that sugar-glass wall…?

Finally, Scout's expression faded into an icy sort of arrogance that was no less harsh than her previous look. "Let me repeat myself. What the _hell_ are you doing in my room?"

Near said nothing for several moments until Scout used her weight to press Near further against the wall. "Perhaps… I should tell you at a later time," he hazarded in his soft voice. "Now is not the time or the place, it appears."

"Then we shall state another time and another place," she spat. Her eyes continued to burn with fury. "And you will not enter my room again." With that, she sharply withdrew her blade with such rigidity that Near had to wonder if it pained her to retreat in such a manner. She took a step back and stared at him expectantly.

But Near did not leave immediately. No, he was startled to realize that Scout was entirely naked from the waist up but for a plain white bra. It wasn't that he was breathless at the sight of a woman; he knew the female anatomy and Scout wasn't exactly an amazing specimen. No, she was bony, angular, flat-chested, and skinny. But her arms were slightly muscular—at least, they were defined enough by her lack of pudgy fat to make their strength stand out significantly.

None of this was the cause of his sudden halt. What had caught his eye was the myriad of white scars that lacerated her arms. A few deeper, more serious scores could be seen on her stomach. They were not in the regular, concentrated patterns of a cutter, but in the random marks of battle wounds.

That's when it dawned on Near… Scout had been a fighter before she'd come to Wammy's. It explained her lethal aura, her cold exterior, her enraged unwillingness to cater to his every whim, her militant mindset and behavior… _I should have realized it when I saw the knife,_ he thought, still a tad shocked, _but… this only confirms it…_

_And I cannot even imagine what she's gone through. Everything adds up._

Near decided wisely not to quiz Scout on her past. He could wheedle the information from Roger later. He blinked once at her, bowed his head almost imperceptibly, and left.

The moment she heard the latch close, Scout followed to lock the door, feeling her tense muscles protest at their ill treatment. Minutes passed, and she just stood there in the center of the room, stewing in a whirlwind of fury and wrath. Ragged breaths echoed dully in the small room, and her arm snapped out, her wrist flicked. A loud _SHUNK!_ followed, and the switchblade quivered in its new sheathing of plaster.

_Dammit! He saw… he saw…_

Scout drew in a shuddering gasp and sat down on the edge of her mattress, unsure of how she was suddenly at her bedside and not out in the middle of the floor. She paid that no mind and slumped over. Her façade was cracked. Near knew her secret. She wasn't proud of her history, and it didn't bother her that Watari and Roger knew. They were her rescuers, and the former was her employer… She couldn't begrudge them that knowledge. But Near…

Near…

Her archrival, her peer… her enemy…

Was he really an enemy? Just because she hated him…

_No,_ she thought. _I don't hate him._

But neither did she really like him… If she was honest with herself, Scout didn't truly know what she thought of Near. He was an enigma to her. Her equal in many respects, and the one person who truly understood her coolness. He was the one with whom she was always lumped together… they were evenly matched in strategy…

But Near could never get upset. Never. She… she was constantly staving off the urge to yell and scream and rip something to shreds. Her rein on her temper was excellent, but she'd just snapped.

It figured that she'd snap at Near.

A crack had now appeared in Scout's sanity. What was she to do now that he knew she'd been a criminal? Would he treat her like dirt? Would he refuse to associate with her? Would he insist to Watari and Roger that she be prohibited from ever taking charge of the orphanage?

Scout swallowed nervously. _No… Near's too passive for anything like that. If anything, he'd refuse to even see me, probably just tell Roger some cock-and-bull story in order to keep me from seeing HIM again._

Something inside her cringed at the thought. Never seeing him again? As strained as their relationship was, she enjoyed challenging him, enjoyed the ongoing battle of wits that had always continued whenever they met. But mostly, she missed the fragile tolerance they'd possessed as adolescents. Neither had really been particularly fond of the other, but they'd been cordial… There was no animosity between them at all…

When had things changed? Why had she suddenly grown hostile in her thoughts toward him?

Scout's eyes widened as she recalled a faint memory she'd attempted to erase from her thoughts…

**

* * *

**

.:FLASHBACK MODE:.

_Two years since L had returned from Japan with the exotic, dark-haired girl on his arm. Two years since the Kira case had been completed. Only two days, however, since it had been announced that Near would be taking up the mantle of Eraldo Coil, one of L's excessive identities (that just so happened to be the world's second greatest detective). Not that Scout was surprised. Near was definitely the smartest kid in Wammy's, if only by a small margin. Mello was directly behind him, but HE was too emotional. Scout had great doubts about Mello, who had already assumed the title of Deneuve two years prior. However, Near was extremely passive… It was obvious to Scout that he'd never get anything done…_

_But she heard some faint voices in the front hall as she passed through the corridor to the cafeteria for a glass of milk. Curious, she stopped to listen more closely. It was Watari's voice…_

_"…leave soon? Excellent."_

_The deep, listless voice of L followed: "Yes, it is best that you leave as soon as possible. Keiko continues to care for the twins without much of my help, as I am forced to carry on the roles of the world's two greatest detectives. One is enough work."_

_"I understand." That was Near's soft tenor. "I will do my best."_

_Scout snorted. What was he playing at?! The true Near would be thinking something along the lines of "I shall do my best to surpass even you, L." Near was somehow competitive in a subtle way—no, it was more like his pride implored him to be the best. If he wasn't, then he couldn't live with himself. Scout had once heard him say that "if you can't solve the puzzle, you're nothing but a loser." While he had a point, he'd seemed incredibly arrogant. But he wasn't trying to be arrogant. It was just his mentality: you either win or lose. There was no middle ground, no brownie points for people who got halfway._

_"Mm, yes, I'm certain that you will," L replied tonelessly._

_"Well, if we don't leave soon, I'm afraid we'll miss our flight," came Roger's quavering voice. "Near?"_

_There was no response but the clack of the front door and the squeak of the ancient hinges as it opened, then the loud _CHUNK_ of its closure echoing through the foyer._

_Scout frowned to herself. Near… he'd been getting so blasted haughty over the past year. Didn't have time to play Risk or debate the odd case with her… If it had been just her, she wouldn't have minded it as much, but Near seemed to have taken to holing himself up in his room lately, doing who knew what. Probably casework… but he didn't have to be in constant isolation! He was never seen in the cafeteria at mealtime, suddenly being too high and mighty to join the other kids. Too good to be seen in the common rooms, solving his puzzles or playing with his extensive toy sets. It was then that Scout decided that she hated the white-haired brat. Well, if she wasn't worth his time, then he wasn't worth hers._

**.:END FLASHBACK:.**

* * *

Near sat on the edge of his own bed, one leg dangling to the floor as he pulled his other up to his chest. His toes gripped the edge of the mattress just as the fingers on his right hand curled around his calf, keeping his leg in place. His other hand was occupied with his hair, twirling, twirling…

He was rather numb after seeing Scout in such a condition. He'd known she'd had a rough past; her very demeanor was enough to give that away—to say nothing of the fact that she was an orphan. But she'd had a much worse childhood than he'd ever anticipated…

While they made sense, the scars… he hadn't been entirely prepared for the sudden outflow of sympathy he'd felt. It was strange… He'd always been so emotionless… so detached from everyone, so as to avoid getting hurt again, or getting entangled in useless relationships… But somehow, someway, he realized that he felt _something_ for Scout.

He wanted her approval, her attention, her presence…

He wanted her friendship.

There was something about Scout that made Near feel a little more relaxed, and simultaneously more motivated to succeed, like he wanted to prove that he could compete with her and win. It was almost playful, in a watered-down sort of way. Perhaps… yes, it was that same feeling he'd received when playing that first game of Risk, years ago on that rainy day…

But that posed another question: would this mean that he'd be limited in his work because of a friend? After all, look what had happened to L… First, meeting, then cordiality, then camaraderie, then a bond… which would grow until it became a crush, then courtship, then… love…

No. Near could not imagine himself placing any sort of confines on his work based on any outside source. If anyone was to limit his work, it would be him, and by his decision, and would be based on a logical reason, like… health, if he wasn't getting enough sleep and wasn't functioning properly.

Friends were out of the question.

But… he _liked_ Scout…

* * *

Mello grumbled to himself as he swung open the door to the room he shared with Matt. He desperately needed some chocolate. Angrily, he trudged across the empty space to the cardboard box in the corner and pulled a foil-wrapped bar from it, tearing it open and snapping off a portion with his teeth. Instantly, he felt just a little calmer, and sighed.

"What's up, mate?" Matt looked up from his computer in the corner of the room, a look of mild curiosity and mingled concern upon his features. "You look a tad upset."

"We got a job," he muttered, staring at the far wall with a cross between a glare and pensive musing. "Isn't goin' t' be easy."

Matt's eyes narrowed. Mello usually didn't admit to stuff like that; it must be something actually kind of difficult. "Er, I'm sure we can handle it," he offered cheerily, but his note of slight nervousness did not escape Mello's notice.

"The Syndicate's presence is expected at Parliament representative Roderick Adamson's fundraiser banquet tonight, and he wants me to remind Lina that she's expected to go with him."

Matt shrugged. "Well, that isn't too hard… oh… right… she's out with Carlyle today…"

Mello's nostrils flared and he took another bite of chocolate. Carlyle was Lina's current boyfriend, a handsome man with a flirtatious nature. He was twenty-five and everything Mello was _not_. He wasn't blind to that fact when Lina had started going on about Carlyle in great detail, but when in her long dissertation she'd reached the part wherein they'd entered a hotel room, Matt had shut her up quickly and Mello had gone searching for a chocolate bar. The fact that she had a boyfriend was not upsetting to Mello in the least; rather, it amused him greatly that she was making a point of avoiding any Mello-ish trait in her latest squeeze, and only the day after their "incident" at the Club Blue Moon. She might as well have put up a flashing neon sign that proclaimed "I LOVE MELLO!" (Or that she at least loved to tease him.) It was painfully obvious.

"Then she won't have her work cell with her," Matt concluded, ending with a soft curse. "Well… that's awkward. What do we do, now?"

"Wait until she gets back."

"She won't be back until late!" Matt exclaimed.

"Then we come up with a plan for the meantime!" he snapped back. They only had three more hours before the party began. It was doubtful that Lina would've been able to get ready in time, even should she have been there.

Matt looked up at Mello meaningfully. "Well, if we don't have time to find someone else…"

Mello's eyes widened, then he glared murderously. "No!"

"Maybe… one of us… will have to go…"

_To be continued…_

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_Did anyone catch the_ Casablanca _quote in there? Huh? Huh?? Anybody?? Or the fact that BEFORE this chapter, this story had exactly 66,666 words? XD_

_Also, I'd like to make it plain that Near does not have a crush on Scout. He just wants them to be friends. He identifies with her. Haha, but I'm just giving you guys a taste of what Mello and Matt are going to next do in the story. Oh, their adventures never cease to bring me LOADS of amusement!! :D_

_By the way, check out my deviantART page!! I've put up a couple of new things, including a Jizen/Seizonsha meme of hilariousness (in full-color chibi style!) and a pic of a new OC that you should be meeting within two chapters!_


	20. Connections

_I'M SORRY, EVERYBODY!! I KNOW IT'S BEEN NEARLY A MONTH SINCE I LAST UPDATED THIS! I BLAME COLLEGE, WORK, MORE WORK, BUSYNESS, WRITER'S BLOCK, AND MY MOSTLY ABSENT MUSE!! (sigh) It's been rough. I apologize for the delay; I'm going to TRY to update sooner next time. However, this story is really starting to wear on my nerves. That said... REVIEWS MAKE MY JOB NICER AND NICER JOBS MEAN MORE INCENTIVE TO DO BETTER AND MORE INCENTIVE TO DO BETTER MEANS MORE FUN FOR ME AS AN AUTHOR AND MORE FUN FOR ME AS AN AUTHOR MEANS I UPDATE QUICKER. REVIEWWWW!!!_

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_**

_Disclaimer:_ Death Note _is not mine; otherwise, I'd be supremely happy... as it is, I'm just mostly happy._

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy. **_Helped by _**Madeline Cullen.**

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**CHAPTER 20 – CONNECTIONS**

_In which Mello gets into a very interesting situation and Matt finally succeeds in contacting L and Keiko._

* * *

Matt blinked incredulously. "Wh-what?! One of _us_…?" The redhead blinked. "You've gotta be kidding me!"

Mello sighed heavily and buried his face in one gloved hand. Not only would this prove that they were extremely gung-ho about involvement in the Syndicate, but it would cover for Lina… and not only this, but it was actually a good opportunity to meet some higher-ups who were connected to the Syndicate. And more time with Piers meant the possibility of increased knowledge or clues to the mystery of this whole Syndicate-Kira mess… "Is it sad that I can think of all sorts of reasons why one of us _should_ go…?"

"Yes." There was a pause. "Dude, I am _not_ going as a chick."

Mello narrowed his blue eyes. He said nothing. No words were required; the implication was clear enough. Mello would _not_ be going as a woman with Piers Rayne to a state banquet.

Matt shrugged. "You look more like a chick, anyway…"

There was a long pause, wherein Mello tried desperately to calm himself and keep from wringing Matt's neck. He took several deliberate bites of the chocolate to placate himself. Finally, he drew in a deep breath. "No."

"No?"

"N. O."

"One of us is going to have to go…"

"…"

* * *

Two and a half hours had passed. All sorts of mysterious jars, pots, compacts, and bottles had been opened, examined, questioned, and finally, used or shoved to the side, with… _interesting_ results. Mello's face had been thoroughly cleansed five times after various disasters. It was a miracle that he'd finally managed to look presentable. He'd even been forced to trade in his boxers for a pair of briefs just so there would be no strange wrinkles showing through the dress. Even so, he'd have to be careful so as not to show off any indication of his gender while walking; the dress was rather tight about the hips…

Matt pulled the curling iron back and smiled at Mello's reflection. "You look _gorgeous_!" he trilled in what was meant to be a homosexual-sounding falsetto.

It wasn't that they hadn't _tried_ to reach any other females in the Syndicate; it was just that they didn't know any who were present. And Olivia White had adamantly refused to put up with Piers and his libertine ways.

Mello growled at him and yanked the cigarette from Matt's lips to take a deep pull on the thing, himself. Matt was about to protest, but after seeing Mello's handgun on the vanity, he decided to let it slide. A hot curling iron could be a formidable weapon, but a gun trumped it easily.

A knock sounded on the door. "Lina?" It was Piers.

"Yes…?" Matt's voice returned in a perfect imitation of the redhead woman's tone.

"Departure time is in ten minutes."

"I'll be ready, Piers! Don't worry!"

A minute passed, and they both stared at the door in silence. "You've got to work on doing a girl's voice, mate," Matt finally said.

Mello made no reply as he stared at his reflection. His blond tresses framed his face in perfect curls, which would doubtlessly bounce adorably when he walked. His slender form was encompassed by scarlet fabric in the form of a simple, yet elegant, evening gown. Even his feet had been given a quick pedicure specifically for the occasion.

"If you ever speak of this again, I will kill you myself," he growled at Matt. "I don't _care_ if you're my best mate."

"P-point taken!" Matt said cheerfully. "Don't worry about it!"

* * *

Ten minutes later, Mello was stepping carefully into the back of a fancy limousine, wherein Piers sat in wait. "Good evening, my dear," he said genially as the car left the garage. "May I say that you look beautiful tonight…"

Mello's eye twitched, and a vein in his forehead popped out rather prominently. "_THANK_ you."

Piers stopped and looked more closely at his companion. "Lina…?"

"Don't I wish."

Piers squinted in the dim lighting and finally caught a glimpse of his companion in the glow of a streetlight they passed. "WHAT THE—!?" He leapt away quickly. "M…Mello?!"

Mello grunted and turned to look out the side window. "I'm not gay, I'm not homosexual, bisexual, queer, camp, or anything other than _heterosexual_. I'm _only_ doing this to cover for Lina!!" He trailed off, mumbling various curses directed toward said woman under his breath.

Piers cleared his throat awkwardly at the man's vehement tone. "I see… And why, may I ask… is Lina… indisposed?"

"Carlyle."

"Ah."

Mello exhaled sharply through his nose. He only had a single chocolate bar to last the night, and would have to make it last. _Self-control, Mihael… self-control…_

* * *

It was going to be a _long_ night, Mello knew, when no less than five young men approached him with various questions: would he care for some champagne? Did he care to stay and chat a while? Was he single, could he be troubled to give out his mobile number…?

Needless to say, Mello was furious. He forced himself to relax his face into a simply _cold_ look, and stiffly declined each and every request. Piers, though thoroughly disturbed by the whole thing, put up a wonderful front, keeping Mello by his side and introducing him as Lina's cousin, Adrienne, to all the dignitaries he met, including Roderick Adamson, himself—the politician who'd given the fundraiser party.

Adamson was a sharp-eyed man with a craggy profile and a hawk-like gaze; his square jaw, browned and wrinkled skin, and receding hairline only enhanced his image. But his teeth were so _white_… He looked like the typical mafia associate. Genially, he shook Piers' hand and smiled. "Rayne!"

"Rod, my friend!" Piers greeted. "Pleasure to see you so well."

"And you." Adamson's gaze turned to Mello. "And who is this lovely young lady? I didn't know we had the honor of hosting someone so ravishing."

Mello smiled in a rather strained manner and nodded his head in acknowledgement of the "compliment." He was dangerously close to snapping back with something along the lines of "I didn't know I was being hosted by such an awful perverted man. I also have the power to have you thrown in jail, don't you know?"

"This is Adrienne, Lina's cousin," Piers explained. "You remember Lina?"

Adamson chuckled. "Yes, quite a fireball, if memory serves."

"Indeed, she is," Piers laughed in agreement. "Adrienne, here is much more docile."

"Oh, you flatter me," said Mello carefully. "I'm really not so gentle as I appear."

This declaration, though intended to be somewhat menacing, was met with interest from Adamson, who raised a brow. "Indeed? Most intriguing…" His brown-yellow eyes roved over Mello's frame. Mello was not blind to the fact that he was being visually raped by the man.

"Ah, do excuse me," Piers said suddenly. He abruptly turned to meet up with another man several feet away, leaving Mello and Adamson alone in the middle of the crowd.

Adamson glanced at Mello and smoothly turned to stand closer to him. "How Piers Rayne can leave such a stunning young woman amongst so many men… If he's not careful, the honor of being at your side will be stolen away from him."

Mello's eyes widened drastically as he felt a hand slip around his waist, almost grazing his backside. Words failed him for a moment, before he gulped back bile and stuttered out a response through gritted teeth. "Y-you are _too kind_, sir. Being in the presence of a gentleman makes me feel _so much safer_."

"I'm afraid you don't quite know me, my dear," Adamson said in a dangerously low voice. "I'm not a gentleman at all…" His thumb rubbed subtly up and down on Mello's side.

"Apologies, Adamson, Adrienne, dear," came a calm, cheerful voice. Piers had returned. Mello was itching to strangle both of the men then and there, but it took all of his self-restraint to refrain. _DAMN, _he needed some chocolate…

"Excuse me, sir," Mello said then, jerkily breaking away from his grasp. "I need to make a visit to the powder room."

Adamson nodded and reached out smoothly for Mello's hand to plant a soft kiss on his knuckles. "It was a pleasure to meet you, young lady."

"Likewise!" he fairly squeaked in his falsetto before _bustling _across the room…

A quick glance around the marble-tiled, potted-plant-littered women's restroom told Mello that he was alone. He yanked the chocolate bar from his handbag and bit a chunk out of it with violence. He was left with about half of the confection…

Grumbling, he pulled out his mobile phone and dialed Matt's number.

_Ring… ring…_ _"Mello! How's it going?"_

Mello retorted with a black curse. "I'm being fawned over by old perverts and hormonal young men. So help me, you owe me a crate of chocolate!"

Matt sighed on the other end. _"I owe you nothing. Talk to Lina; she's who your covering for."_

Mello fought the urge to bury his face in his hands, remembering that doing so would smudge his makeup. "Yeah… Whatever."

_"I got some news that might raise your spirits a bit,"_ Matt offered. _"I've been doing some work, and I think I might be able to get through to Keiks and the bossman."_

Mello paused. That was good news… "Right. Keep working; tell me what you've got when I get back."

_"Hang in there, buddy…"_

A glance at the clock on the wall made him sigh. Two more hours… He made his way to one of the stalls in order to eat up some time.

Of course, it wasn't until a pair of older women entered the restroom that Mello remembered that women actually sat on the loo to urinate… Fighting the urge to curse his memory aloud, he awkwardly maneuvered himself to turn around so that his feet, visible from beneath the door of the stall, were turned in the right direction as he did his business. _Damn… Lina will PAY when I return…_

* * *

Keiko leaned her head on Lawliet's chest as he leaned back against the headboard to accommodate her. A sigh escaped her lips as she took comfort in his familiar warmth, his strong body that held her close with all gentleness. Despite how amazing it felt to be alone with him, just the two of them… well, there was the issue of the continuing Kira case, on which they were making little progress (which was taking its toll on Lawliet's demeanor), and also Alex's recent behavior. Keiko was beginning to feel strained to the breaking point: her guilt belabored her internally over neglecting her parental duties to her son and damage control was in order, which would inevitably be a long and rocky road to tread; moreover, there was punishment in order for him so blatantly disobeying the rules of the teachers, of the orphanage, of Roger and Watari, and of his parents; there was homework to help him complete; of course, there was also Aimi to attend to—while she was unarguably much more capable than Alex at coping with his parents' absence, she was also craving their attention; then there was Lawliet, who silently implored her attention to cheer him from his threatening depression (this, when she needed cheering up herself), and his also-silent (but more obvious) desire for intimacy once again, something which she was in no mood to do at present. All this, and the added nuisances in the form of Misa and Light… not to mention the chores that needed to be done, as well as caring for her family by cooking and cleaning their laundry, at the very least…

Keiko was strained, all right. And exhausted. Today had been a very emotionally taxing day.

_Just wanna close my eyes for a minute,_ she thought to herself as she relaxed. _Just a minute, and I'll be… ready to talk with Law…lieh…_

But she was asleep before she even could finish her thought.

Lawliet had noticed her fatigued state and had allowed her to do as she pleased, but he hadn't expected her to fall asleep so quickly! He'd taken note of her exhaustion long ago and had planned to be extra sweet by setting up a bubble bath for her and leaving her to soak—that was something she enjoyed every once in a while. Keiko had once said that it made her feel like a rich heiress, to which he'd replied that technically, she was rich, now. "I'm not an _heiress_," she'd replied archly. "Being an heiress implies a life of leisure, being able to do things like take hour-long bubble baths every day with no consequences." After she'd said this, he'd pointed out that she could easily do that without consequence, as he had more money than either of them could really count (or rather, wanted to count). "No!! That takes away the fun of it all…" He understood at that point that Keiko enjoyed the occasional luxury of taking time for herself, but not _too_ often, for it spoiled the "luxurious" feeling associated with the rarity of such events.

But there in his arms, she looked so worn out, so… so… selfless. As of late, she'd been sacrificing almost all of her own desires for him and the Kira case, for their family… Most of it without complaint. She easily could've complained and gotten away with it, too, considering her pregnancy…

She'd been getting better about coping with her emotions over the past few years; back when he'd first met her in Los Angeles, she had a bit of a tendency to simply hold things in, believing the circumstances were all her fault in the first place, but now… she didn't blame herself, nor did she keep _everything_ inside, which was an improvement, but she still would keep a good deal of her problems to herself, like now. She'd not said anything all day about how she felt (not since she'd run off to Wammy's in search of Aimi and Alex once Lawliet had let her off the handcuffs, anyway). Lawliet wondered if she'd ever decide to freely confide in him without misgivings.

_No… she probably never will. _He imagined an old, white-haired woman, hunched over with age, rolling her eyes and rattling on about how she didn't need to be adding to the world's troubles, didn't he know? And for Pete's sake, to just let it go! She kept things to herself and had survived for the past eighty years…

He chuckled silently at the mental picture of Keiko, old and gray (or white-haired, as she would eventually become, should she live a long life… or possibly sooner, if she kept on hiding her problems from the world). Growing old with Keiko was going to be interesting. He'd not given a great deal of thought to the subject, rather preferring to focus on the present, wherein she had smooth, unwrinkled skin and not a hint of gray in her dark reddish-brown tresses. He liked being able to look at something as beautiful as Keiko, especially while he was still young and energetic.

Another smile crossed his lips. Simply thinking of her was enough to cheer him up.

But…

The possibility of death…

It would be a lie if Lawliet declared he'd not given any thought to retiring early so as to cease adding to the list of people who wanted him dead. If he retired, he'd stop collecting new enemies and would thus be free to live in peace. And with a family, he had much more incentive to do so. But like Keiko, he was reluctant to do so for purely selfish reasons (and as they did not much affect his family's wellbeing, it did not matter), namely, finding something to occupy his time without a job. Even his attention span could only hold out for so long on a given subject. He knew that were he to retire then and there, arguments with Keiko and his children would quickly occur and with greater frequency, purely out of boredom with one another. That was the last thing he wanted. While there were times he thought he could spend weeks on end with only his family without losing interest (and probably could, too), one of them would eventually tire of the constant company. And Lawliet enjoyed solitude! He would eventually long for time to himself, or one-on-one time with Keiko, Alex, or Aimi, or even Watari.

No, if he were to retire, he would need some other occupation besides just his family (though he'd undoubtedly be spending more time with them if he did retire). Perhaps he could teach criminology classes at Wammy's…? If he were no longer L, then surely there was no need to fear showing his face to the children there, or even to a few other "outsiders." He would be able to take Keiko out of the house, out on proper dates to fancy restaurants and theaters and such, if he kept a low profile.

Lawliet wondered instantly if he'd have the patience to deal with children. He supposed that worrying about something like that was rather useless, for the Wammy's House only took in children who possessed an IQ of 170 or higher. They were the best of the best. Surely they would not be _boring_. And being practically a child himself, at least in desires, demeanor, and mannerisms, he could easily empathize with them. He would probably make an excellent teacher.

But would he have the patience to connect with them as he knew they'd need to be? Children needed to be nurtured by at least one adult, and at an orphanage, they'd need extra care. Many would want to instinctively reach out to any adult who possessed the slightest shred of sympathy. Others, like Near, would retreat into a shell and withdraw from the world… _No, I would have to reach out to each and every one of them impartially,_ he told himself. _I could easily keep track of each child, and they would most likely be drawn to the individual attention I could provide. Would I have the patience to spend time with them all, to be a father-figure to them all, especially when I have two children of my own who already require my love and attention…?_

_I would most likely have to wait until Aimi and Alex and the new child grew up, at least until they became independent enough to take up less of my time. I would be able to devote myself to the children of the orphanage, in that case. _

_But I would be able to train and groom the next L myself, which would automatically free Mello and Near both to do their own duties as Deneuve and Coil, no matter which of them would inherit my main title…_

_That would indeed be ideal…_

He stopped to bite his thumb in thought and grinned around it. He imagined Keiko becoming a teacher, also, probably a teacher of languages, seeing as how she knew so many. That, or even helping him teach criminology. That could be potentially interesting…

Keiko shifted, mumbling something incoherent as she twisted more closely into his arms. She burrowed her face unconsciously into his shirt. Something wet began to seep through the cotton fabric to his skin, and he realized with mild amusement that she was drooling. But soon, she shifted again, stirring into a state of semi-wakefulness. "Ugh… I got fuzz in my mouth," she murmured sleepily. "Oh… I fell asleep, didn't I…? Aw…"

Lawliet's lips connected with the top of her head. "Sleep." He helped her to lay down properly in the bed, not even bothering to point out that she was still clad in jeans and T-shirt. Keiko was asleep almost instantly.

With an inaudible sigh, Lawliet stood and made his way to the office. Just as he sat down at his computer, he heard a tinny beeping sound. Someone was attempting to hack into his computer…! What a strange occurrence… A few taps on the keyboard and he had pulled up the IP address, MAC number, BIOS information, and owner information of the mysterious hacker's computer. Apparently, it was a very advanced computer, and owned by one Olivia White. He frowned. She was part of the Syndicate. Intrigued, Lawliet began tapping away at his keyboard. It wasn't two minutes until he'd backhacked White's computer.

Matt grinned. So, Keiko was trying to backhack him? Great… He knew a few more tricks… Let her play for a minute or two, think she was winning their game of virtual tag.

Forty minutes later, and Lawliet knew he was fighting a losing battle. He frowned. Who was this mysterious hacker, and how was it that he (or she) was able to hack into _L's_ computer?! He had more firewalls and precautions set up than the FBI and CIA's databases combined. He checked to make sure that his camera was turned off, ensuring his safety. But in a moment, a new screen popped up, overriding all his attempts and opened applications.

But what surprised him was the image on the new screen. There sat Matt, a smug look of triumph on his face. "Nice try, beautiful!" he sang.

Lawliet's frown deepened. _"Nice try, Game Boy,"_ he typed back.

Matt's face fell. "Oh. Sorry, boss." It was customary for Matt to address L as "boss" while undercover. Any suspicion of being in contact with the world's greatest detective while posing as a criminal would not prove to be in his best interests.

_"Why have you not responded to Watari's requests for your presence here?"_

"Oh, that…" Matt cleared his throat. "Er… well, I thought you knew… Keiko asked us to go undercover and find out what we could."

Lawliet grunted in displeasure. _Keiko… _He exhaled, calming himself. _"I see. Have you discovered anything?"_

"Not really. We're getting closer, though…"

Lawliet paused to think. Did that mean that Kira was in the Syndicate…? He rolled his chair over to the other computer, the one Light used during the day. Quickly, he pulled up a list of the victims and scanned them quickly, but he stopped.

Of course! Why hadn't he seen it before…? None of the victims had been part of the Syndicate. Not a one. But then…

Something else caught his eye. He clicked a few buttons on the screen, and the victims reorganized themselves in order of time of death.

There it was… The first fifteen victims killed on the first day… The last letters of their surnames spelled it out clearly.

A-N-S-E-L-A-L-E-S-S-A-N-D-R-O.

A.

His first successor.

His first heir…

The suicidal maniac who'd killed himself under the pressure of the impending title.

An audible growl sounded from Lawliet's throat. HOW had he not noticed that?! That _bastard!_ Was he dead, or wasn't he?! It seemed like he was… if it had been anyone else, say, C, D, or E, then the question became _why_ spell out A's name? Did anyone else even know A's name, besides Watari, Roger, L, and A himself…?

Lawliet returned to his own computer and sighed before typing once again. _"Turn off all audio and visuals, please, Matt."_

"Uh, later, boss!"

Quickly, the screen went blank, and Lawliet froze. Had they been discovered…? He paid it no more heed. Matt knew better than to test the situation, at least, where L was concerned. He would make certain that nothing came of it…

* * *

Matt's heart leapt in his chest out of sheer surprise when the door to Lina's room swung open. Before even giving a thought, he muttered a quick goodbye to L and slammed the lid of Olivia White's laptop shut. There in the doorway stood Lina, entangled in a tall, stocky man's arms, a stupid grin painted on his face. It was clear that this was Carlyle, and that her purpose in bringing him back to the abandoned hotel was to entice him into her bedroom. But, seeing her room a shambles and Matt sitting there innocently, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette, she paused in confusion.

"Matt…?! What the hell?"

"Oh, _hi_, Lina!" he said cheerily. "What on _earth_ are you doing back so soon?"

Lina tugged Carlyle through the door and slammed it shut behind her. "What… are you _doing?_"

Matt sobered, his expression turning mildly accusatory. "Do you recall perhaps agreeing to accompany Piers to Roderick Adamson's fundraiser banquet tonight…?"

"Piers can kiss my butt! What is all this?!"

Sighing, Matt rubbed his cigarette butt into the cement floor and stood. "Mello had the good graces to cover for you."

Lina groaned loudly and leaned against the wall. "No… you've got to be kidding me…"

Matt's gaze turned to the man. Tall, brown-haired, and muscular, he looked like a mixture of Prince Charming and the local bad boy—in other words, most girls' idea of perfection. "Doctor Livingston, I presume," he mumbled sardonically.

"Carlyle," he corrected. "The name's Carlyle."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Lina, lose the stiff. You _owe_ Mello."

"Who is this, Lina?!" Carlyle asked warily, glancing over at Matt.

"I'm just her illicit lover!" Matt said brightly, crossing over to grab Mello's handgun, still on the vanity. "Nice t' meetcha!"

"Matt, shut up!" Lina cried. "Carlyle, this is a friend of mine, Matt. Matt, Carlyle."

"Charmed," said the goggle-clad genius.

Needless to say, things got even _more_ awkward when the door opened to reveal Mello, still in drag, wearing a horribly disgruntled expression.

A long pause followed, wherein everyone stared at Mello, who matched everyone's gazes with equal ferocity.

Lina fell over onto the floor, clutching her sides, she was laughing so hard. "MELLO!? AHAHAHAAHAHAA!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA…"

"Shut up, you stupid bitch!" Mello shouted back, fighting the urge to wallop her with his handbag. "I WAS COVERING YOUR ASS!!"

"Oh, Mello, if all you wanted to do was borrow my clothes, you—hahahaha! All you need to do was a-ha-ha-hask!!"

Carlyle glanced in confusion at Mello. "Dude… is he a… dude…?"

In response, Mello reached into his dress and yanked out the gel inserts before savagely tearing down the zipper in the back so that he stood there in a pair of tightie-whities—quite an image when coupled with his perfect blond curls. Matt calmly raised a towel over Mello's nether area as though to give him further modesty.

Lina was still in gales. "Oh… What—HA!! What did Piers say??"

"Carlyle, I assume," Mello growled at the strange brown-haired man. "Get out, if you know what's good for you." He snatched the gun from Matt's hands and aimed it for Carlyle's head. "NOW."

Carlyle flinched, but gradually did so. "Later, Lina…"

The clack of the door echoed behind him. Lina's laughter had died off, and she sat up, gazing at the mess of feminine cosmetics and supplies strewn about: powders, lipsticks, gel, straighteners and curlers, wax and paper strips, gel inserts, bras, stockings, hair spray, compacts, bobbie pins, brushes, and a single black thong. "Oh, dear heaven… that was hilarious… Mello, you finally came out of the closet!"

Mello's face clouded at that. "Don't. Even. Start." He snatched his boxers from a pile of leather across the floor. "If I ever hear a _peep_ out of you about this _again_…" His threat was left unfinished.

"You'll what," she scoffed, amused, "mix Super glue in with my hair gel? Put sulfur in my mascara?"

Mello said nothing, but gathered up the remainder of his leather clothing and marched straight for the door. He was _not _going to endure any more of this ridiculous humiliation. He'd had enough.

Besides, there was a load of chocolate awaiting him in his room…

_

* * *

_

_REVIEW OR I SHALL... make empty threats, like Mello... yeah..._

_But _**BlueHarpy,**_ my coauthor, will be more than happy to follow through on those threats. *evil smile*_

_NOTICE: LOOK UP "Keiko mascot" ON YOUTUBE AND CLICK ON THE FIRST LINK!!! THIS IS THE ANIMATION OF THE MASCOT THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN!!!! XD RATE AND MESSAGE, PLZ!!_


	21. Oblivion, Hispanics, and Cosplay, Oh My

_**Disclaimer: **_**Death Note **_**belongs to someone other than TK101. So do the newest OCs, as well—**_**iceblueangelfang **_**created Jermanee and Xavier and I am only using them… with permission!**_

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; helped by _**Madeline Cullen**_ and _**iceblueangelfang.**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER 21 – OBLIVION, HISPANICS, AND COSPLAY, OH MY**

_In which Matt makes two new acquaintances and fails to purchase a video game_

_(REGARDING THE TITLE OF THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE SEE THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END!!)_

* * *

Matt chuckled as he strolled down the sidewalk en route to a small game store in the less-frequented areas of London; an image of Mello in that scarlet dress came to mind, spurring his amusement even after the night. Mello had not spoken to him since the incident (not that he'd expected anything different from the rather touchy and temperamental man), giving Matt an opportunity to finish his conversation with L.

**

* * *

**

.:FLASHBACK:.

_"Sorry about the abrupt interruption, boss," Matt typed after reestablishing the connection with his mate's superior. "You understand."_

_"Where is Mello?" was the response._

_Matt hesitated for a moment. "Well… he's kind of… recovering right now. He spent tonight cross-dressing as a cover for what may as well be the mafia leader's daughter."_

_There followed a pause before a reply came. "That does not inspire much confidence."_

_"We're getting closer, though," he insisted. "Kira's definitely in the Syndicate, but we don't know who he is. Probably haven't even run into him at all."_

_"I would expect not. I have just ascertained Kira's identity, and you will likely not see him at all—unless, of course, he wants to be seen."_

_"Who is Kira?"_

_"My first successor, thought to have committed suicide long ago. He is most likely mad, so take all precaution when investigating the matter. He will not use his real name, and it is not necessary knowledge, for to use it would be to reveal your connection to me. He is A, and that is all you need know."_

**.:END FLASHBACK:.**

* * *

So they were dealing with someone incredibly intelligent, yet insane. This was going to be a very delicate task, to say the least, one that Matt didn't particularly want to dwell on.

And as the warm morning sunshine penetrated the cool air, he found that he didn't want to think on anything at all, really. It was one of the rare mornings that actually called him voluntarily out of doors… but there was something different about being outside while in the city, as opposed to the country. The country was full of pollen, insects, arachnids, dirt, dust, sand, grit, plants, muggy air, horrid scents and sounds… everything was penetratingly toxic in a way that made Matt's skin crawl. In the city, it was much more bearable, with the sounds of manmade machines, the odors of manmade devices, the sounds, sights, and sensations of manmade _everything_. There was a kind of sterility, a distance from organic things that enabled him to abide the outdoors.

Just a few doors ahead…

Matt, whistling blithely, entered the shop. A bell clanked against the door as it banged shut—the hydraulics were messed up. No one, it seemed, was there. Well, who would be in a video game store in the borderline ghetto of the city at ten in the morning? No gamers, that was certain.

All the better. It meant he could purchase his product and leave quickly without having to battle over rights to some game or get into conversations with newbies about which game was better or how to defeat a boss on some ancient system.

It took him little time to locate the game of his desire: _Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion_. It had been out for some time, but things had gotten in the way and Matt just hadn't really made time to purchase it himself. But as he found the spot where it should have been on the rack, he found that the spot was empty.

_Empty!_ Who would buy _Oblivion_ in 2011? It wasn't like everyone else hadn't already bought it by this point…

Suppressing a pathetic whimper, he moved down the aisle to find some other game to placate his thwarted desires. But his foot ran into something…

"Ow!"

Matt looked down to see a young woman clutching a game. He'd not seen her; she was so motionless and small, curled up into a comfortable little ball, reminding him vaguely of L. She turned her head to him quickly, an annoyed look on her lightly tan face.

Dark brown eyes, shadowed by shaggy blue bangs, peered up at him through wire-rimmed glasses. A great mass of curly, ruddy brown hair was tied back into a desperate ponytail, though a few flyaway ends had failed to make it into the bunch and were now floating gently around her face in an almost _fluffy_ kind of way. Her round nose, full lips, and slightly narrowed eyes all indicated that she was Hispanic, as did her body structure: despite the fact that she was rather petite, her chest and rump both stuck out a bit, giving her a curvaceous figure that she attempted to hide with a baggy white T-shirt and jeans combo. An old, purpley-indigo hooded sweatshirt tied about her waist; her feet were shod in a pair of dirty Chuck Taylor sneakers—no longer in style—and a red baseball cap sat at her feet.

Most importantly, in her hands was a copy of _Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion_.

The girl grabbed her hat and stood (barely reaching Matt's chin in height), still glaring at Matt, though her gaze had lessened in its intensity. "Watch it…"

Matt blinked. "_Oblivion_?" he stuttered belatedly.

The girl rolled her eyes. "I saw it first."

"_Oblivion_…"

Silence. The girl frowned, wrinkling her round nose just slightly. Was he some kind of freak…?

Matt almost pouted. "Sorry I knocked into you. I didn't see you…" He gave a vitiated half-smile, preparing to turn on the charm. If need be, he could flirt with her until she didn't know which way was up, and before she knew it, she'd be handing him the game freely.

"I noticed."

Well, this wasn't going well at all. Matt stopped and licked his lips. "Um… are you going to buy that?"

"Are you kidding me? I've been saving up for this for ages!"

Matt nearly wilted at the look in her eyes. How could he possibly deny her the game when she looked at him like that?!

He sighed. "Ah… okay. I'll have to come back some other time, I guess."

He was about to leave when she stopped him with her soft—suddenly shy—voice. "Hey… have you tried _Bioshock_?"

The corners of Matt's mouth pulled upward just slightly. "Yeah… excellent game."

"Oh…" The clear implication was that she'd been trying to find a reasonable substitute for him. If he couldn't have _Oblivion_, he should have something equally satisfying, right? "How about _The Witcher_…?"

Matt's smile widened. "You have great taste in games, my friend."

She gave a shy smile. "I'm Jermanee."

"Matt." It didn't even occur to him that her name was syllabically that of a country; after having lived at Wammy's, well, strange names were an everyday occurrence. Even his own name, Mail… that was hardly typical. His smile faded a bit. "Hey, I can't stay to talk; I've got a… thing…" Technically, it was true; he did have a previous engagement and had barely enough time allotted to run downtown to purchase the game. He scratched the back of his neck a little nervously, slightly upset at himself that he'd just sounded like an insincere idiot. "Um… it was nice to meet you. Enjoy the game, Jermanee."

"Sure…"

Jermanee stared in shock after the handsome, redheaded man had left. Matt… A nice name. Nice guy. Nice body…

She shook her head. _Just buy the game and head back to Café Manga…_

Café Manga, one of London's most popular cosplay cafés… and it just so happened to be the spot where her brother worked. She didn't always hang out with him at work, but it was a nice place—they had a very well-stocked library—and Jermanee had needed the ride into the city in order to buy her game. Besides, she finally had the day off and could now spend it reading while awaiting her brother to take her back to their apartment.

Seven more hours wouldn't be so bad, not when she had so much manga to read…

* * *

Keiko awoke feeling groggy, unkempt, dizzy, and distinctly grubby. A ridiculous fog seemed to cloud her mind, making her thoughts slow and ludicrous. And for once, she was alone. No Misa… but no Lawliet, either. Keiko rolled over to glance at the alarm clock, which declared it to be nine thirteen. She sighed heavily and flopped back into the pillows. She'd not set her alarm, and Lawliet would've insisted that she sleep in…

Her limbs felt like lead as she practically crawled over to the edge of the bed and swung herself off the mattress and onto the floor with a _thump!_ A guttural groan vibrated in her throat as she tried to work up the motivation to make her way to the bathroom to shower.

The door opened, then, to admit Lawliet, who had been alerted to her state of wakefulness by the sound of her falling from the bed. He shuffled over to her side and squatted down, twisting his head so that his face was parallel to hers. "I find it hard to believe that the floor would be that much more comfortable than the bed."

Keiko moaned noncommittally.

"Do you require assistance?"

"Mmmm…" She screwed her eyes shut and dragged her palms to press into the carpet, as though to push herself off the floor, but that was as far as she got before stopping and giving up. "Hafta get up… no motivation…" She thought of breakfast—everyone was probably starving by now… but as her eyes creaked open, she caught sight of coffee stains and miscellaneous crumbs on Lawliet's white shirt, indicating that someone (most likely, Watari) had made breakfast already. She then thought of her children, who were probably being allowed to sleep in—with good reason. Keiko and Lawliet had decided the previous evening that they were going to spend the next week away from Wammy's; their homework was going to be sent over so that their studies would not suffer. Even so… "Aimi 'n Alex…"

"They are in their bedrooms, waiting for an explanation."

"Mmmf…" She tried to push herself up, but one hand slipped on the carpet, allowing her to collapse back onto the floor once again. "Up…"

Warm hands curled under her arms to gently help her to her feet. "Take a shower. Breakfast will be up shortly." Yes, breakfast was definitely Watari's creation. Keiko mentally berated herself for being lazy enough to force Watari over to care for everyone—that was _her_ job and she shouldn't have created more work for him by shirking her chores. With that, the rest of the world came crashing down on her shoulders: Lawliet was still suffering from their sabbatical from one another, and in multiple ways—and on top of this, she'd _fallen asleep_ instead of explaining beforehand her need for rest, thereby just leaving him hanging; Aimi needed an explanation and some company from her parents, just for the sheer joy of being reunited; Alex…

Well, Alex needed many things, most of which Keiko did not know how to give him at the moment. It hurt her deeply to see him so upset, so sure of the lack of love from his parents…

A queer, constricted sort of ache suddenly hit Keiko's chest, signaling the onslaught of tears, and she wanted desperately to just cling to Lawliet and sob. Stubbornly, she swallowed, gulping back the tears and applying a stony expression—her autopilot mode was going to be on for most of the day, if only to keep her from breaking down. Maybe it was just her current weariness… maybe it was her hormones spurring her emotions…

Maybe a shower would help…

Eyes half-lidded with sleep and emotional fatigue, Keiko extricated herself from Lawliet's arms and slumped to the bathroom without a word. She had to remain strong for his sake… If he'd just go, think that she was _managing_, at best, she'd be free to have a quick cry in the shower and be cleaned up and ready to go with no one the wiser.

"Tenshi…?"

Keiko waved a hand in a vague gesture. "Mm… don' worry 'bout me… I'll pull through…"

Lawliet said nothing. Her depression was blatantly obvious, but something about her demeanor begged to be left alone. Very well… but he was reluctant to leave her in such a state, not when he could be a shoulder to cry on (something she needed every so often, if only for the simple reassurance that there was someone to see her through her troubles, to hold her hand throughout the rough journey). But at the same time, he didn't know if he could stand it. An alien frustration burned under his skin, bubbling, simmering, so close to boiling… so close to provoking him to take out his anger on material objects—or Light Yagami… preferably the latter. For the third time in his life, his male desire to rip, tear, destroy, was nearing the surface. If only he could suppress that urge, keep his anger bottled up inside, he could refrain from breaking anything. Keiko would only be further upset by such a mood. He was angry at their unintended negligence of their children; growing (suppressed) fear of the case, now that he knew who was behind it all; Light's presence in general; the fact that Keiko was upset, partially over his sake…

He was not mad _at_ Keiko, but rather, mad that she was so adversely affected by his own emotions. It meant that he'd failed to hide them adequately.

Then again, perhaps it was just Keiko's perception. She could tell his mood at any given time in the blink of an eye… she _was_ a brilliant psychoanalyst, after all.

So he swallowed his emotions and replaced his look of concern with a mask of blankness, something he'd not worn since the first Kira case…

He wondered how much longer he and Keiko could last before finally breaking down…

* * *

"Dammit, why didn't you top off last night?" Mello grumbled as Matt pulled the car into a gas station. "Wouldn't have to stop for petrol…"

Matt shrugged. "I dunno, maybe because I was too busy curling your hair and making sure your gel inserts were straight."

Mello growled a loud curse, followed by something unintelligible. It seemed he was past the furious stage and had now progressed into the sulking, pouting stage. And yet, his expression was twisted into his typically enraged look. No one else but Matt could likely tell that he was not, in fact, murderously angry.

Of course, no one else could likely tell that he was in love, either.

Matt stepped out of the vehicle and set about to refueling the vehicle as Mello headed to the convenience store to purchase a chocolate bar. Idly, he looked around, listening to the sounds of the cars on the roads to the accompaniment of the car's refueling. A colorful-looking café a few stores down caught his eye, and Matt grinned helplessly. Café Manga, a renowned cosplay café… An idea struck him, and, seeing Mello still in the store, made a break for it down the sidewalk and toward the café.

A little breathless, he pushed open the door. The sounds of J-pop flowed into his ears, along with the casual chatter of customers and the occasional clatter of utensils. It was a nice enough atmosphere. Just the kind of place he'd hang out if it weren't for his refusal to have a real social life. Soon enough, he caught sight of a handsome Hispanic man, dressed as Allen Walker, sauntering towards him. (1) A friendly smile lit up his features. "Welcome to Café Manga!" His eyes—one teal, the other red, in accordance with the cosplay—roved Matt's frame and finally settled on his face. "Welcome, indeed…!"

Matt got the distinct impression that this Allen Walker was some kind of sexual deviant. He made no comment; he wanted to be in and out as quickly as possible. "Hi… could I get an application?"

Allen's eyes lit up. "Of course! Be right back… take a seat."

"Thanks." Matt had no intention of seating himself, however, until his eyes came to rest upon a familiar figure…

Hunched over at a table was none other than Jermanee, the girl he'd run into—literally—at the game store that morning. He smiled and approached the table. "Well, fancy seeing you again."

Jermanee looked up from her book—_Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney_. Matt was a little surprised to know that they'd come out with a manga for the game, but said nothing. It looked a little yellowed, as though with age, as most manga does within a year or two. It was nothing new, he decided. "Hi," Jermanee offered slowly, blushing. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

It was not a demand, but rather, an attempt at small talk. "Picking up an application. What are you doing here, besides reading?"

"Waiting for my brother to get off work." She paused and blinked. "Are you planning to work here?"

Matt gave the fleeting thought that the implication was obviously _yes_, but did not say this. "No, actually—it's a joke for a friend."

"Oh?"

Unconsciously, Matt's smile grew wider. "Yeah… he dressed up in drag last night, looked like a real prissy queen… he's straight, though, and I thought I'd tease him a bit."

Jermanee gave a hesitant smile. "I… see…" She didn't.

"It's a long story and I can't stay."

"Do you have… a… thing…?" she wondered innocently in imitation of his words that morning.

He blinked and grinned. She was funny. "Yeah… actually, my friend's right down the street, waiting. I'll be leaving when I get the application." He shrugged and then looked about nervously. "Haha… I think the _D. Gray-man_ waiter was hitting on me when I walked in… creepy fellow, that one."

Jermanee colored again. "Oh…"

Matt's brows furrowed as he got the distinct impression that he'd gone too far. "I'm afraid to ask, but, what…?"

"That's my brother…"

Now, it was Matt's turn to color. "Ooohh…"

Well, he wouldn't ever see this girl or her brother after today, so it wasn't like it made a difference. "Sorry… I… well, I…"

"It's okay. We're both used to it," she mumbled as she stared at the table.

Matt cursed himself inwardly. _Look at what you've done this time! Backpedal, man!_

_How in the world do you recover from THAT?!_

"I… I'm not homophobic or anything," he said quickly. "Just, I don't like… I'm… I'm straight. No damage done or anything; I just… prefer girls hitting on me…" Well, that didn't make him sound at all like a two-timing womanizer…

Jermanee nodded. "It's okay… And he's not gay. He's bi."

Matt shoved his tongue into his cheek. Well, that was an interesting tidbit of information… Inwardly, he continued cursing at himself, as though it might compensate for his crime of seeming intolerance. "Oh. That's cool he actually comes out with it," he covered diplomatically. "A lot of people would just try and cover it up, y'know? Takes courage to say what you are."

Jermanee looked a little placated and even gave a tiny smile.

Thankfully, Allen Walker-brother-of-Jermanee reappeared with a slip of paper, which he handed Matt. A quick glance at his nametag proclaimed him to be Xavier.

Xavier winked at Matt and grinned hugely. "Anything else I can get you?"

Matt smiled and shook his head. "No, thanks. I've gotta run. Thanks, man!" And he beat a hasty retreat out the door and back to the car.

Mello leaned on the hood of the thing, glaring pointedly at Matt. "Now, where the hell were you?"

Matt's former cheer returned in full as he handed Mello the slip of paper. "Just a little something I thought you might enjoy…"

In another three seconds, Matt reflected that it would've been _far _more enjoyable to face the awkwardness with Jermanee and the bisexual Xavier at Café Manga than the now-incensed Mello…

* * *

Jermanee flopped down onto the futon in the shared apartment with her older brother. Only two years of living with Xavier, but it felt more like two weeks. So much was always going on, what with university and work and what little time she spent with Xavier… Her life felt very much like a blur. But at the same time, it was reasonably satisfactory.

Eight years ago, Xavier had moved out of the house following a legendary dispute with their mother over his sexual orientation. How could he be _bisexual?!_ their mother had wondered—shrieked, rather. No, he was a good, Catholic boy who was completely heterosexual—or at the least, just plain homosexual… that would've been more acceptable to her than being both ways at once. Xavier, deeply upset by his mother's furious reaction, had moved out, the day after his eighteenth birthday. If he couldn't live in peace under his mother's roof, then he would live by himself. Jermanee, too, had been affected by this, having been only twelve at the time. A period of disillusionment occurred, then, an awakening which transformed her once-semi-perfect world into a rather solemn and shaken, fragile existence. Why couldn't her mother accept Xavier? He was still her son, still the same boy… but her mother, Rosa Diaz, refused. "No, _señior_!" she'd shouted at the ceiling before turning back to Jermanee. "That _sucio _is not my son!" (2)

That had clinched it. When Jermanee reached the age of eighteen, she'd moved in with Xavier, and they began catching up on everything they'd missed over the past six years—communication had been strictly limited by their domineering mother. Technically, she'd put the kibosh on any communication whatsoever between them, not wanting her other child _spoiled_ so, but they'd found ways to talk in secrecy every once in a while. Now, the duo were thick as thieves, doing everything possible together. In truth, they were more like best friends than siblings. Jermanee wouldn't have it any other way, and she was positive that Xavier felt the same.

Eight o'clock. Xavier emerged from the bathroom in his pajamas: boxer shorts and a black T-shirt that read "Badass Brother" (a gift from Jermanee on his last birthday; he wore it whenever he could). His shoulder-length black hair hung limply to his shoulders in a wet curtain. Despite the early hour of the evening, he had already showered and dressed for bed. It wasn't like they'd be going anywhere. They both preferred quiet evenings at home over partying all night long. Xavier plopped down in a chair across from Jermanee, who was still on the couch (playing _Oblivion_, by this point). "So… about that smexy redhead at the Café today…" he said with a suggestive tone.

Jermanee smirked, never removing her eyes from the screen. "He was decent enough."

Xavier studied her for a moment before giggling inanely and pointing. "Oh, you LIKE him, don't you?!"

Irritated, she bit her lip and concentrated on the screen, trying to play it off as focus on the game. "No… I just met him today. That's ridiculous."

"Oh, yes you do! You think he's hot!"

"Do not!"

"You're biting your lip and blushing!" Xavier laughed and stood in front of the television screen, making Jermanee almost roll off the couch in attempt to keep eye contact with it. "You only ever do that when you like someone, dear sister! Come, now! The truth shall set thee free!"

She paused the game to look up at him, ignoring his sing-song voice. "Do not."

"Do, too!"

"Do not."

"DO, TOO!"

"Dork!"

"Nerd."

"Dorky nerd."

"Nerdy dork."

"Dorkishly nerdy geek of an emo," Jermanee shot back.

Xavier stopped and blinked for a few moments before resuming his seat in his chair. "Damn…"

Jermanee smirked. "You just got pwned, dear brother."

"Rub it in." But Xavier smirked again. "But you still think he's hot."

She retaliated by throwing a pillow at him viciously, which only heightened Xavier's victory. "Do not. And don't start with me!"

"Never said I was going to…"

* * *

(1—From _D. Gray-man_.)

(2—Sucio is a Spanish word for someone dirty, vulgar, or obscene. Can be adjective or noun.)

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THIS IS NOT TRYING TO MAKE FUN OF HISPANICS/LATINS IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM. THIS IS MERELY ADDING ANOTHER DIMENSION TO THE STORY, AND JERMANEE AND XAVIER JUST SO HAPPEN TO BE HISPANIC. Blame

**iceblueangelfang**_ for that one, and _**BlueHarpy**_ (who is Latin, and from whom I got many of Jermanee/Xavier's habits/history) for giving me permission. PLEASE DO NOT FLAME ME FOR THAT REASON._

_However, if you wish to flame me for some other reason… well, I'd prefer you not do that, either…_

_But reviews are wonderfully appreciated!_


	22. Close Encounters of the First Kind

_**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Death Note.**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; helped by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang.**

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**CHAPTER 22 – CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE FIRST KIND**

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That afternoon…

Mello sighed as he opened the door to reveal Piers Rayne and Olivia White standing there. The former cleared his throat and looked away, obviously recalling their last encounter, wherein Mello had been dressed entirely in drag. Mello pretended not to notice and instead waited for one of them to initiate the conversation.

"You and your companion, Matthew," Olivia droned in a no-nonsense tone, "will follow us."

Matt, hearing his "name," shuffled into view. He made quite an image, donning his cargo pants and no shirt (that was slung over his shoulder carelessly) and a Pop Tart hanging out of his mouth. His goggles hung limply around his neck. "Fum-won fay my name?" he asked through the food.

"You are to come with us," Olivia said again, and Mello grunted. Matt shrugged and slipped the shirt over his head and resumed eating the Pop Tart before trailing Mello and the two Syndicate leaders down the hall.

"What's this about, mate?" he asked his leather-clad companion.

"Don't ask me," he shot back.

Matt's eyes narrowed, and he immediately wondered if his conversation with L had been found out. Were they about to meet their deaths because they'd found out about A?

Mello, too, was thinking along the same lines. That very morning, Matt had told him about A's existence and his virtual rendezvous with Mello's superior. Mello had sat in the corner for most of the day, eating chocolate and contemplating his next move. Currently, his eyes were narrowed to snakelike slits, and every fiber of his being was on alert. This most likely had to do with A… why else would Piers and White be acting so grim?

The elevator ride to the top floor was rather awkward—no one said a single word, and Matt was beginning to get claustrophobic. Finally, they were released from the confines of that metal box to be greeted with a wooden door. Piers knocked gently upon it. Mello's eyes caught sight of something blocking the light that shone through the peephole for a moment, signaling someone's presence within. Whoever it was, he was observing these _intruders_, calculating whether or not it was safe to show himself.

The seconds ticked by slowly. It felt like twenty minutes, they stood there… when in reality, it was probably only one. Matt gulped noiselessly to hide his growing nervousness. He looked at Mello, who stood without moving a muscle, like some kind of marble statue. He had to admire his friend's lack of fear—and good acting skills, for surely he had to be under some kind of apprehension at the moment!

The slightest clack sounded, and Matt watched the handle turn slowly. Each tumbler grinded and clicked hideously as whoever was behind the door opened it with painstaking slowness. Mello's eyes flicked down toward it for the briefest of seconds, registering the portal's opening, but kept his eyes toward the door, so as to be ready for whoever stood behind it.

At last, the door swung open.

A man of medium height, most likely in his thirties, stood there wearing a devious smile on his pale face. Smooth black hair hung forward into his eerie violet eyes. His lips, a strange pink-red in stark contrast to the rest of his milky skin, created an almost bestial impression. His slender form was clothed simply in a black turtleneck shirt and black dress pants. But most importantly, a commonplace black notebook sat on the desk in the corner of the room…

Mello's blue eyes surveyed every inch of this new man. Something about him made Mello want to run as far as he could—the only things that held him back were his pride and sense of duty. He had to see who this was, if only to satiate his curiosity, but something told him this man was the key to the entire case. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Was this… A?

"Piers, Miss Olivia," the man said in a silky voice that exuded confidence. His purple eyes snapped toward Mello, then, and stared. Mello did not blink, nor did he flinch. Instead, he held the man's gaze with stolid resolution. He would not give in, nor would he lose this little contest of dominance. The man was testing his determination and strength, and he would prove himself. After nearly twenty seconds of stifling silence, the man's gaze flicked to Matt for a second, then back to Mello warily, before finally resting on Piers. "These, I presume, are the new recruits you've told me so much about."

"Yes, sir," Piers said genially. "Allow me to introduce them. This is—"

"Mello," he snapped as he continued to stare menacingly. He would prove his dominance to this strange new being.

"Matt." He said this a little belatedly, taking the hint that Piers was no longer in charge of the conversation.

"Hm…" The stranger's purple eyes flashed once with irritation, then examined Matt with a mildly distasteful, yet curious, look. "Mello and Matt. Strange names…"

"Despite the fact that Kira is in our midst, we will not risk revealing our real names," Mello said quietly, almost in a whisper.

A tiny smile stretched across the figure's red lips. "I see… You may call me Mr. Andrews. I, too, go by an alias, for the same reasons." He turned smoothly and walked with an almost feline grace into the room to stand before an armchair. A thin arm gestured for them to join him, but only… "Piers, Miss White, thank you. You may go."

Mello and Matt carefully stepped into the room as the door clacked shut behind them, and took their seats on a black leather sofa opposite the chair. Once they were seated, Andrews slowly sank into his own chair. Matt almost cringed. He looked like the classic villain, there, only he was missing a fat cat to lie in his arms and stroke idly. His stillness was one of the creepiest aspects about him: he was so at ease with himself, so confident, that he could afford to not fiddle with a pen or straighten his shirt or busy himself with any other task. This was a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who'd planned everything out to the T.

A wolf in sheep's clothing, that's who this man was.

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds, until Andrews shifted, crossing his legs casually. "Mello and Matt. That's it? No last names? They seem like rather slipshod aliases to me."

"Call 'em nicknames," Matt explained with a shrug. "We could come up with other, more realistic names in the blink of an eye."

"Mm." Andrews mulled this over easily. "Fair enough, fair enough."

"If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Andrews, _sir_," Mello said softly, "would you get to the point? The small talk is pointless."

"So it is, so it is. Very well, then. It has come to Piers' attention—and thus, to mine—that you are both very dedicated and skilled members of the Syndicate. I try to make it a point to get to know everyone involved, and I'm afraid I've been a little late introducing myself. I apologize."

Mello was unfazed by this. He nodded his understanding. "I see. How do you fit into the Syndicate, Mr. Andrews?" He continued to say _Mister_ as though to mock him.

One dark eyebrow rose almost dangerously. "I just help out Piers here and there. I do what I can."

"Forgive me if I'm disinclined to believe you, _sir_."

Andrews' eyes narrowed. "What do you think I am?"

Matt looked at Mello a little nervously; Mello ignored him. "Kira."

Andrews blinked calmly. "You think that I am Kira?"

"Yes."

A wide smile split his face in two. "And what evidence do you have to prove this?"

Mello's eyes narrowed. "First, no one in the Syndicate has died by Kira's hand. That's enough to show that Kira is part of it. Second, you want to _get to know_ everyone—is that for blackmailing purposes? I find it hard to believe that you're just being friendly. Third, you treat Piers like a lapdog. You'd have to wield a ridiculous amount of power to top one of the world's biggest crime ring leaders. And lastly… that notebook over there on the desk."

At this, Andrew's violet eyes widened in mild surprise. "So you are as intelligent as Piers has told me. Enlighten me, how do you know about the notebook?"

"Are you admitting to being Kira?" Mello drawled, taking an easy bite of his chocolate bar.

"Perhaps. Will you tell me how you know of the notebook?"

"Perhaps." Mello leaned back against the sofa, the picture of ease. He looked to be a panther lying at his leisure: lazy, but powerful and dangerous. Andrews, too, appeared something like this, albeit in a much more refined kind of way, as though he were only subtly powerful—indeed, he was—whereas Mello looked on the brink of unsheathing his claws and striking out violently. "Let's just say… we have connections. And the world's greatest hacker."

"A wise man does not reveal his secrets," Andrews quipped. "I understand…"

* * *

After her shower, Keiko stumbled out of the bathroom and into a pair of red sweats and one of Lawliet's T-shirts before making her way to Aimi and Alex's bedrooms. She was going to have to explain things to them, and _soon_. Aimi came quietly and easily, patiently awaiting whatever story her mother would have for her; Alex, however, dragged his feet mutinously, unwilling to believe his mother's explanation. Lawliet, upstairs in his office, had declared that he was working; couldn't Keiko give the details of the month-long separation to their children? Keiko grumbled like crazy and finally relented. Downstairs in the parlor, Keiko sat before the twins and attempted to pull herself together enough to explain things.

The sorrow in her eyes spoke volumes to Aimi, who instantly forgave her—she knew that her father would've had some excellent reason for doing such a thing. He _was _L, after all. Everything he did, he did for a reason. Alex, on the other hand, saw his mother's emotion and took it for an act, something to soften him up. Well… He resolutely crossed his arms and slumped back into the couch, feet dangling above the floor.

"You remember stories from class about Kira, right?" Keiko began softly. Aimi nodded and Alex shrugged. "A different Kira has appeared, now, and your father and I are trying to catch him. But it's not as easy as it was last time, because we don't have any leads."

"That's not a reason to send us off to boarding school for a month, Machiavelli," Alex mumbled.

Keiko frowned, too upset to be impressed by her son's knowledge. "You're right. There's more to it. Your father… and I… have something of a confession, however…"

"I should hope so," Alex grumbled.

"Quiet, Alex," Aimi said chidingly; Alex turned away and began muttering various phrases under his breath.

Keiko sighed. "Last time… Kira was—"

"KAWAII!!"

Keiko nearly jumped out of her seat as Misa Amane skipped into the room to gaze adoringly and in fascination at Aimi (who looked horrified) and Alex (who looked utterly disdainful). "Misa… could you please go away for a few minutes…?" Keiko groaned.

"Oh, they're so _cute_, Keiko! You must be Aimi-chan and _Aru-ek-su-_kun!"

Keiko buried her face in both hands and tried to keep from blowing up at the model as she fawned over her children, chattering away in Japanese. "You're both so adorable! Oh, I can't believe you had kids, Keiko! Wow, they look just like Ryuzaki, except they're cute!"

"Misa…"

"It's so nice to meet you both! I'm Misa Amane, of course, hee hee! And I'm here cuz Ryuzaki's being a jerk—oh, I probably shouldn't say that your father's a jerk, huh?"

"Misa…!"

"Well, he isn't a jerk, but he's being a jerk right now, cuz he brought me and Light-kun over since we were once Kiras, only I don't understand how that's exactly possible…"

"Misa!"

"…cuz I don't remember a bit of it—"

"_MISA!!_" Keiko practically roared, now seething. Misa froze and turned back to Keiko with a questioning look on her face. Keiko took in a few deep breaths to calm herself and sighed. "Thank you… for explaining. Now, will you please go for now? You'll have plenty of time to talk to them later, I promise. Just… not now."

Misa blinked at Keiko uncomprehendingly. "Oh… okay…"

Alex was a little surprised. Well, it certainly explained things. His parents hadn't wanted him or Aimi around while the ex-Kiras were present… But the Kiras had been killed, hadn't they…?! That's what they'd been told…

Well, it made sense to want to keep it on the hush-hush. It wasn't something you'd want to spread to the public: L caught Kira and let him live! No, that would cause a panic.

So, he'd still been lied to! His eyes narrowed at his mother. "So, you let the world's worst criminal live on? My feeling of security has been infinitely boosted."

Keiko bit her lip. Aimi, too, was looking a little betrayed and upset—albeit not as much as Alex. "You have to understand the entire situation."

"What situation? I just understand you let Kira _live_!" Alex shot out.

Keiko's eyes flashed. "Do not open your mouth until I've finished speaking, Alexander. I will explain everything if you just let me!" Alex shut up, though he continued scowling. "Thank you. Now… you remember Grandpa Soichiro. When I was a teenager, I used to take care of his two children, Sayu and Light." Aimi and Alex had met Sayu, but they'd only ever heard of Light. It was strange to bring the Yagami family up at a time like this, but because of that, Aimi had already figured out that Kira had to have been Light. Why else would her mother be explaining this? "Light was like my little brother, and we were pretty close. Thus, when I found out he was Kira—when we really proved it—I was very upset. I found a way to make one hundred percent sure that he'd never be Kira again, and offered to let him live. So we did. I couldn't let Light die because I was too fond of him.

"But that's not all. Light wasn't the only Kira. Misa Amane was his accomplice." She sighed. This was way more complicated than she'd remembered… "Kira's powers come from a shinigami," she explained. "And the shinigami that was attached to Misa was very… they'd gotten very close, and that shinigami threatened to kill us if we laid a hand on Misa, so we also made her give up her notebook, but we let her live for that reason. And now that there's another Kira, your father had Misa and Light come here to observe them, to make absolutely certain that they had no part of this. That's why we sent you to Wammy's, to protect you. I'm so sorry it took so long, and I swear that we'll never send you away like that again…" Keiko swallowed and paused. "That's the grand explanation."

A long pause followed, and Aimi tilted her head in a very Lawliet-ish manner. "But what about Yotsuba's involvement? And wasn't Kira punished? And why are mythical creatures involved? Are we to believe in fairy tales?"

"Yeah!" Alex exclaimed. "And what's a notebook got to do with any of this?!"

They both stared up at Keiko with their big, grey eyes. She sighed and nodded. "Aimi, you're right. Yotsuba was involved. There was a third Kira there, and he was killed by Misa's shinigami. Yes, they exist. And Kira _was_ punished; Light spent five years in prison."

"Only five years?!" Alex sputtered, almost indignant. For him, the entire justice system was just upended on its ear. "That's ridiculous! After he killed _how_ many people…!?"

"I realize it seems mild," Keiko said softly. "Perhaps it was. But he was penitent, and he could never become Kira ever again. We made sure of it."

"That's ridiculous…"

Keiko nodded. "Yes, it was. Perhaps I was foolish to suggest it. But I did because I love Light. Now, do you want to hear about the notebook or not?"

"Not really," Alex mumbled. "It's all pretty stupid to me. I'm not as dumb as you think I am. I don't believe it."

Keiko took another deep breath to calm herself against the threatening sting in her eyes. "I understand that it's a very strange story. This is why we didn't make public all the details. Shinigamis and notebooks and temporary power… even the killing with heart attacks. It all seems very strange and impossible…"

Keiko paused, then. Proof. She'd need proof.

And that meant Akira.

A tiny smile made her perk up a bit, and she stood. "Let's go make some macaroni and cheese… and you'll see what I mean."

Aimi hesitantly followed, but Alex scowled. "Whatever. I'm going up to my room to finish my _math homework_," he grumbled in an acidic tone.

Keiko nodded. "If you wish… I just thought you might like to see proof of this whole story."

"Not really…"

Keiko and Aimi set about to making macaroni and cheese, then, while Misa popped her head into the kitchen to see if she could talk more with Keiko and L's kids. The more Misa and Aimi talked, the more Misa and Keiko were reminded of L. Aimi truly was her father's daughter as she sidestepped around Misa's questions, led her into harmless verbal traps, and stared constantly at the model.

Finally, the macaroni was finished, and Keiko set it on the stovetop to cool, awaiting the presence of the irrepressible shinigami. Forgetting the pasta, then, Keiko set about to making cake and lunch for everyone while listening to and occasionally joining the conversation between the model and her daughter.

Lunchtime came, and Lawliet and Light were drawn out of the office to eat. Aimi ran up to her father to give him a hug, almost as though to reassure herself that her father was truly there, and that she could see him as often as she wanted, now. Lawliet knelt down to hug her and, with a rare, genuine smile, picked her up to carry her on his back. Aimi giggled at her father's rather playful behavior and beamed at the room. Light smiled up at her. "You must be Aimi-san."

She nodded. "You're Light-san."

He returned the nod. "Nice to meet you, Aimi-san."

"Likewise."

Alex trudged down the stairs belatedly and sat at his seat at the table with a look of distinct grouchiness. Light, unfazed, gave a friendly nod. "Alex-san, right?"

Alex turned to the newcomer and nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm Light Yagami. It's nice to meet you."

"Whatever…"

Keiko wilted at this and, while Alex's back was turned, whispered to not mind him at the moment; he was out of sorts and with good reason. However, that didn't stop Lawliet from turning to Alex (after having deposited Aimi in her seat) and giving him a warning look.

Alex sighed heavily. "Sorry, Yagami-san," he said dully. "It's nice to meet you."

Keiko looked faintly forlorn as she began serving the food to everyone. It was nice to have her children back—oh-so nice! But Alex…

She wondered when all this trouble would be over…

* * *

Inside her office, Scout slumped over at her desk. For once, there was little work to do. Following the incident with Near in her room, she'd buried herself in her work with a vengeance, completing everything with a furious accuracy and speed until she was left with nothing to do but brood. Something in the back of her mind was bothering her, but she was at a terrible loss to pinpoint the exact problem. What was it? Like something was missing… And she had no idea what!

A knock sounded on her door, and she perked up. Finally, something to do! "Come in," she said, sitting up straighter.

A white, wooly head poked into the room, and Scout's eyes narrowed. "Hello, Near."

Unruffled by her cool demeanor, he entered and closed the door behind him. "Hello, Scout. Might I have a word with you…?"

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What will happen next?

_Reviews make me write more quickly!_


	23. We Belong

_**Disclaimer: I does not own **_**Desu Noto**_**.**_

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_ and aided by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang**_._

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CHAPTER 23 – WE BELONG

_In which Scout and Near have a much-needed conversation and Ansel Alessandro muses further about his plans._

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"Hello, Scout. Might I have a word with you?"

Scout's already-narrowed eyes remained so for several moments. Near reflected that this was a good sign—there was no dangerous glint within her green orbs. Finally, she sighed and nodded wordlessly and gestured for him to shut the door behind him.

Awkwardly, he approached her and stood before her desk, wondering how in the world he could manage to say the words he so wanted—_needed_, if he was to continue his career as a brilliant detective—to say. But… how would she take it?

Near reflected that not only had he resolved to tell her no matter what her reaction would be, but that he also was standing whilst she sat—he felt he towered over her, and worked up the courage to sit in the chair before her desk, thus putting them on an equal playing field. He was no longer looking down on her, no longer dominant.

He swallowed heavily. Scout quirked an eyebrow at his odd behavior. "Are you all right?"

He nodded. "There is no easy way to say this, Scout," he murmured softly. "However, I feel that it would be prudent to say it nonetheless." His dark eyes took in her carefully guarded expression. And yet, he thought he glimpsed a hint of curiosity behind her mask… "I ask that you hear me out entirely before responding or drawing a conclusion." She nodded, frowning slightly. What was all this about?

"It has become apparent that my performance as detective has fallen," he explained softly, twirling a lock of his white hair around a finger. "After much investigating and inquiring after the possible catalysts…" He abruptly tugged his hand from his head and placed both hands on the arms of the chair. It was extremely important that he not be preoccupied while admitting this! "I have ascertained that _you_ are the cause."

A dangerous look flashed across her face. The arrogant little brat! Insufferable jerk… But Scout had agreed to not draw a premature conclusion and composed herself.

Near watched as her expression calmed into one of quiet dignity. This pleased him. So, she actually was going to listen to him! The notion bolstered his confidence and he continued. "I suppose that is an inaccurate statement. I should explain. Humans are social beings; no matter how much we may try to avoid other human contact, we need interaction to survive. In many cases, humans are somehow drawn or attracted to other _specific_ humans."

Scout was ridiculously close to blurting out "What's this got to do with me?" but she held her tongue (not without effort) and said nothing.

"It seems that I am not exempt from this. I realize that I require the presence of other humans—specific beings, and to be precise… your presence is missed."

Silence greeted the end of his speech. Rather in a state of shock at the idea of Near _missing _her—didn't that mean that he was attracted to her in some way, however vague?!—Scout's eyes snapped open and her hands gripped the arms of her chair so that her knuckles faded white with the strain. Any words she might have had fled her mind as she contemplated this mystery. She wished he would continue to talk, even if it was about nothing at all, so that she could form a response properly without looking like an imbecile.

To be honest…

Honestly? She didn't know what she felt for Near. She did rather miss the opportunities to irk him in small ways, like heating his food just a little hotter than necessary so that he burned his mouth, or lowering the thermostat just a degree or two to make him cold, but not cold enough for a sweater or blanket. But if she truly thought about it, what she missed the most was the opportunity to challenge him to a game of Risk or chess, to know that he was finally evenly matched by someone else while giving her brain ample opening to exercise her abilities to their fullest potential. But was such an arrogant reason any truly decent basis for a friendship…?

Did that really matter when L's successor was practically pleading for her to interact with him once more (this was as close to pleading as it got for Near)?

"I understand if you wish to mull things over," he said hesitantly, snapping Scout out of her reverie, "but it would be comforting if you would say something."

Scout returned her attention to him. "Yes, I would like to think things over."

He nodded once, expression impassible, and stood. When he'd reached the door, he turned back to Scout. "I apologize; I know this must seem incredibly random. But I extend my thanks, nevertheless, for listening to me."

The door shut behind him.

Scout slumped over slightly, staring at the smooth (if worn), wooden surface of the desk. What was she to do? How was she to act to this revelation?

If it got right down to it, Scout missed Near, too. But… she'd hated him for years!

_No,_ she thought, subdued. _I don't hate him. He merely irritates me._

_This is so out-of-character for him… Wouldn't it be more likely that he's trying to manipulate me by offering friendship, only to use me later?_

_Yes, but did you sense anything in his manner that was less-than-honest?_

No, she hadn't. Scout prided herself on being able to read people's true intentions—such a talent was necessary on the streets, where misreading a single glance could mean the difference between life and death. He'd seemed to be completely honest… open…

Not-Near…

She wrinkled her nose as she recalled the incident, which continued to replay over and over in her mind.

_"…your presence is missed…"_

His eyes were wide and true. He'd made a point of not playing with his hair, and lowering himself to the same level as she'd been.

_"…you are missed…"_

_As are you, Near…_

But was he?!

Scout no longer knew. She was thoroughly lost. She needed to talk to someone.

At first, she thought of Watari. He was, in many respects, her father, as he was to many children in the orphanage. Almost instantaneously, however, she dismissed the idea. He would be all for the relationship. The same could be said of Roger. No, she needed someone who would listen and try to give her an unbiased point of view, someone who would see both sides of the dilemma…

* * *

After Mello and Matt had quitted his room, A gave a dark chuckle. He crossed his room to stare out the window onto the city below. "It seems that the Syndicate is attracting a more intelligent breed of criminals than I'd thought possible."

A hearty snigger sounded behind him. Without turning toward the shinigami, A sighed. "What is it, Gukku?"

"Nothing!" Oh, this was hilarious! He had no idea that the two young men he'd just seen were in the exact same position he'd been in years ago…

A grunted. He ignored the shinigami. He was always laughing at strange things. What he needed to think of was a way in which he could keep the two men in the dark about his next plans—they'd tamper with them for certain, now that they knew he was Kira! And he would have no insurance against them. He did not have their real names.

Piers was right. They _were _smart.

It was quite a pity, really, for they could have been real assets to the plan he was concocting.

Well, at least he didn't need to worry about them. If they went to the police (unlikely, as Piers had their records with the Syndicate to use against them), what would they say about his role as Kira? The police would do nothing, first of all. Even if they did, he could evade them easily. All they would find would be a simple black notebook. Hell, he could even give that to Gukku in order to hide it! Gukku had hinted very heavily (unintentionally) at having a concrete reason to stay on this world without being caught. He had other business here, A was sure of it.

But about that plan…

How would he tear L's family apart? It was imperative that L's home life be completely wrecked so that he would be in his most vulnerable state. Norwood had told him that his family consisted of three other people: a son, a daughter, and his wife. A mentally added Quillish Wammy to the list; L always had been attached to the older man, for what reasons, A could never comprehend. Wammy was a soft-hearted idiot.

Now, who to attack…? He probably shouldn't kill anyone within the family; that would cause unnecessary tragedy. L would likely be too distraught to do anything. No, he needed L panicked, enraged, unable to think properly. That would likely mean capturing someone.

Of course, the ideal was to capture his wife. From what Norwood had told him, his wife, Keiko, was a pretty little thing of Japanese descent, and she was nearly always in a good mood. L was probably on very good terms with her—he wouldn't marry anyone who would bore him (she would be smart), or who would make him descend farther into the depths of melancholy than he already was (she would be typically cheerful)—and would most likely be horrifically unnerved at her absence. But fooling a grown woman, and a sharp one, at that, would be a chore. Kidnapping one of the children would be easiest. And for that, he needed more information.

That, too, would be no mean task, for L's wife _always_ answered the door. Norwood had not caught much more than a passing glimpse in the window of anyone else in the house. This told him that this Keiko was also protective and cautious.

It was only a matter of time, however. He was sure that L had already picked up on the clue he'd left him in the surnames of the first fifteen inmates killed… L already knew his opponent was formidable, but even the most steadfast fortresses fell, and the stronger the defenses, the harder the fall.

L's downfall would be one to savor, indeed.

* * *

Scout rapped on the door of the L and Keiko's house, standing there impatiently on the front step. Never mind that Keiko, as a social being, would probably be inclined to persuade Scout toward growing closer to Near; this was as close to an unbiased opinion Scout would get. At least she had the satisfaction of knowing that Keiko would try to be fair.

On a higher note, Scout took great vindictive pleasure in the fact that she'd caught a glimpse of Alex rooting up dandelions in the back yard with a murderous look on his face. So they'd put him to work as punishment! Capital idea. And knowing L and Keiko, they'd keep him busy as long as he was awake.

Several seconds passed, and a haggard-looking Keiko opened the door. Her eyes widened as they caught sight of Scout standing there, and she composed herself. "Oh, hello, Scout…! This is unexpected…"

Scout acknowledged this with a single nod and stepped inside as Keiko gestured for her to do so. "Yes. I apologize for the intrusion—"

"You're not intruding."

"Please do not lie for my sake, Mrs. L. You look horrible."

Keiko shrugged noncommittally and led the young woman into the kitchen for a glass of milk.

"Oh, you have company!" trilled a high voice, and Keiko sighed.

She turned from the refrigerator and shouted back, "This is _business_, Misa! Stay up there!"

Scout quirked an eyebrow. "Misa?"

Keiko nodded and began to pour her guest a tall glass of the white beverage. "Yeah… one of the ex-Kiras. Don't mind her; she's… very… hyper."

"I see." Scout took a seat adjacent Keiko at the kitchen table and lifted the glass to her lips gratefully. "I'll get right to it…"

But she didn't. She paused, trying to form the words to properly convey the gravity of the situation without sounding like she was leaning toward either option. "…I've just had an… _interesting_ encounter… with Near."

"Oh?" Keiko looked interested—and tired.

Scout met the gaze of the older woman, and Keiko dimly reflected that nearly any other woman her age would've stared at the table distractedly. Amy, in particular, would've. "He said _verbatim_ that my 'presence is missed.' He seemed to be extending an offer of friendship…" She paused, wishing desperately to have her knife on hand for something to occupy her empty hands, like a security blanket of sorts. "I came to ask for an opinion on the situation."

Keiko blinked. "_Near_?! What…? That's… _odd_… Did something happen between you…? I thought Roger had you bringing him meals and stuff…"

Calmly, Scout explained the story, intermittently taking sips of milk between described encounters, and finally, she finished with "…and today, he came to my office to tell me that he missed me." She stared unblinkingly, expectantly, at Keiko, who exhaled slowly.

"What to do, what to do…" she mumbled distractedly, drumming her fingers on the wooden table. "Wow… That's… an interesting chain of events…" Keiko bit the inside of her cheek. "I don't know, Scout… I mean, what do you _want_ to do?"

"That's… what I'm unsure of. It seems that this is an opportunity to tuck me into his pocket for use later. He's a fantastic manipulator."

Keiko frowned. "I don't know about _that_. That sounds more like something L would do. Near is diabolical, yes, but he knows to keep his allies close and not to manipulate them. He's better at dealing with outside sources because of this—he'll maneuver other people like they were just a few of his toys, but his friends… no…"

"You should be friends with Uncle Near," came a small voice.

Scout and Keiko looked over abruptly to see Aimi standing in the doorway. Keiko groaned and buried her face in one hand. "Aimi…! How many times have I told you not to eavesdrop…? Ugh… so hard raising kids with L as a father, the bah—jerkface…"

Scout paused as Aimi approached her. Never before had the gaze of a child made her so… afraid! Aimi tilted her head to stare at Scout. "Why don't you become friends?"

"Because I'm not sure if I like him."

"Some part of you must want to, or else you wouldn't have a problem."

Damn her six years of genius.

Scout's eyes narrowed, but she thought about this. Aimi had a point, but at the same time, Scout knew that the opposite was also true: if the presence of a conflict indicated a desire to befriend Near, then it also indicated the desire to shun him completely. There were at least two sides to every argument…

"But part of me also doesn't want to."

"Being friends doesn't mean you have to be _really_ close," Aimi said sagely. "He doesn't have to be your _best_ friend."

Six-year-old logic never sounded so true.

Keiko had to smile a little. "She's got a point." Scout did not immediately respond, and Keiko shrugged. "Does that at least get you thinking?"

Scout frowned and nodded. _Now_ she looked at the floor, staring at the terra cotta-colored tiles. "Yes… yes, it does." With that, she stood as though in a trance and headed for the front door, leaving the remainder of her milk to sit there on the table.

Keiko followed her and opened the door for her. "Thanks, Mrs. L…" Scout mumbled as she left.

* * *

Alex grumbled as he dropped another dandelion into the large, white plastic bucket he'd been given. Even with gloves, he was sure he'd developed a blister on the heel of his palm from using it to shove the tool into the for the leverage necessary to de-root the tiresome weeds. Why did they have to go and give him _hard labor_, anyway? What, were they enforcing child labor? Ridiculous! Now, he was reduced to their slave! And his mother _still_ wasn't helping him with his math homework! And on top of that, she'd given him _MORE_ to do as punishment, in addition to the chores! Every waking moment, he was busy with some task: dusting, laundry, doing the dishes, weeding the lawn, mowing the grass, washing the patio out back…

Simply intolerable!

He sighed. Through all his anger, he was growing despondent. No matter how much he argued with himself, he could not deny the fact that he missed his parents, even _needed_ them—even if they were his foster parents! He wanted so badly for things to be back to the way they were before this whole mess started… but he wasn't so desperate that he would come running back! No, he would hold out and _they _would apologize to him, or he wouldn't apologize at all!

* * *

A soft tap sounded on Near's door, and he mumbled a quick "It's open." Surprisingly, whoever it was heard him—the soft creak of the hinges sounded—and entered. Slowly, Near turned, vaguely hoping that it would be Scout. All the same, part of him feared her response and he began to wish that he'd never said anything in the first place.

_No, it needed to be said,_ he reminded himself. _No matter the outcome, I'll have felt better for it._

Finally, his eyes landed on the intruder.

"Hello, Scout," he said softly, eyes widening infinitesimally. He hadn't expected her to make up her mind so quickly…!

"Hello," she replied in a quiet voice. "I think… I understand, now. I… I must apologize…" Near was sure that if he'd had more of a heart, it would've dropped into his stomach. "…for my behavior toward you. I… have misconstrued many of your… words and… actions." She seemed stiff, and yet, calm, and confused all at once.

He listened more carefully, turning himself to face her completely as he placed his Optimus Prime figure next to Megatron on the rug. "I understand."

Their eyes locked, and there followed a pregnant pause.

"Am I to take this as an attempt at a polite letdown?" Near asked.

"No," she whispered. "Surprisingly, no. I came here to say that we should talk further… about the matter."

And Near gave a tiny smile.

_

* * *

_

WOW, that was… expected, but unexpected at once. Tell me, was Near in character? Has he BEEN in character? I feel like he hasn't been… same with the M&M's… Mello's kinda OOC. (But Matt doesn't really have a set character, so it's hard to make him OOC.)

_FEEDBACK, PEOPLE, FEEDBACK!!!_

_REVIEWZ ARE WHAT MAKE MY HEART SOAR!!_


	24. Meant to Live for So Much More

_I know this chapter seems uneventful. But about two chapters after this, things will REALLY start to pick up speed. Aimi's discovery in this chapter is very important… other than that, it's a tad fluffy—the calm before the storm, if you will. MORE SCOUT/NEAR IN NEXT CHAPTER, AS WELL AS MELLO/LINA and MATT/JERMANEE!!_

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_Disclaimer:_ **Death Note_ and its characters belong to someone who doesn't write fanfic for a hobby._**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; helped by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang**_._

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CHAPTER 24 – MEANT TO LIVE FOR SO MUCH MORE

_In which Aimi discovers an important implication_

* * *

Scout closed the door to Near's room as she left, feeling surprisingly better. It had been good to discuss the idea of friendship with Near—friendship, what it entailed, what problems she'd had with him, compromises…

What had made her genuinely happy was when, after about twenty minutes of discussion, Near produced a large cardboard box with the word "RISK" printed in bold red atop it.

They'd stayed there for hours, until long past dinner time, without a care in the world.

Scout returned to her office with a tiny smile on her face. A strange kind of buoyancy made her feel _cheerful_, something she'd not felt in months. Who'd known that playing a simple board game would improve her mood so?

She opened the door to the office, only to be greeted by Watari.

Scout stopped short in mild surprise. "Mr. Wammy," she said softly, giving a slight nod of her head to acknowledge his presence. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Watari stared at her solemnly. "I trust you've enjoyed the past few hours?"

A sinking feeling grew in her chest, dropping into her stomach. What had she missed? "What is it?"

He gave her a knowing glance, telling her that he'd known where she'd gone, and was not about to punish her in any way, but was rather disappointed in her. "There has been another prank. Someone slipped some form of laxative into Roger's coffee—"

It was unnecessary to say much more about _that_. Scout visibly cringed at the idea. "Have we found the culprit?"

"Emily is suspected."

It made sense. Emily, the beautiful, golden-haired child with the porcelain skin and chubby fingers. She looked like an angel, but Scout could see through her innocent façade, no matter what others said or thought. "I see."

"I have sent her to a classroom to complete extra studies under the supervision of one of the teachers," he explained.

Scout swallowed. She knew where this was leading. His question was _why hadn't she been here when the problem occurred?_ It was her job to take care of these sorts of things, and she had been off playing a board game.

"I trust that your… engagements were important?"

She paused and swallowed again. "Importance has nothing to do with it. Unless an emergency of some kind arises, I should not leave my post. For that, I apologize." Her face conveyed no hint of regret at her transgression, nor the slightest bit of rebellious anger at having being caught (not that she had any anger). No, Scout was _blank_. As usual.

Watari inclined his head. "Miss Shay…"

"I do not respond to that name, Watari."

"It seems to me that you do respond to it—you just did."

Scout's gaze narrowed. She'd been caught _there_… But all the same, she was no longer Shay Barlow! She'd _told_ Watari that. Why did he not listen?

Watari exhaled softly. "Miss Shay, I am… inclined to think that you are not… not incredibly well-suited for this position."

"What…?" Scout's eyes widened at this point, and she pointedly remained rigidly still. Her hands itched to curl around the handle of her knife, or at least into fists—anything to relieve her tense demeanor! She kept herself composed, telling herself that Watari had a good reason, whatever it was, for thinking whatever he thought. "What… exactly… makes you think that…?"

Watari casually took a seat on the edge of the desk, calmly adjusting his grey cardigan. He motioned for her to come near, and she stood before him, facing the right wall so that the door remained in her peripheral vision. "It troubles me to say this, Miss Shay. I had hoped that you would eventually open up… But your coldness… is not exactly conducive to a career in which you must work with children at all hours of the day and night."

She wanted to lash out. Oh, she wanted to scream, shout, rip, tear, run—anything!

She did nothing.

"I… I see…"

"It isn't that you've not done a thorough job with the paperwork and technical side of the job. Quite the contrary!" Watari paused. "This is not a dismissal, either. It is a request that you take some time off to attend to your own devices. It is my hope that you will try—and succeed—at opening up a little. I know how much you love the children. I do not think that many of them see it. As I have become something of a father-figure, you should be to them a mother."

Scout swallowed heavily. _Open up?!_

How could she?

_No… I can't open up… no…_

_No, I've always been this way. Shay Barlow is dead, and dead is dead. Resurrections are stories from the Bible. Nothing more._

_Opening up means exposing myself to weakness, moreover. I cannot allow myself to be weak._

Her hard green eyes stared at Watari. "How… exactly… do you propose I do that?"

"Weren't you just speaking with Near? I believe you allowed him a tiny insight into yourself by doing that."

That single fact was like a javelin through Scout's spirit. She blinked once, twice, and stared silently at Watari. _No! That was not opening up! That was negotiating! And it was only because Near wanted to talk to me about his failing abilities! I'm only keeping him placated so he can be L one day!_

_He's right. It's exposing your weakness to befriend anyone._

She was haunted by her inner thoughts, plagued by Watari's unintended accusations. "I… understand…"

Watari peered at her over the brim of his spectacles. "Shay Barlow, do not feel that displaying your own thoughts and desires means that you are weak. I understand that you, especially, might have a hard time doing so, but if you just open up a little, smile every now and then, you will make a wonderful replacement for me after I've retired." He smiled. "I know how badly you want this job. Let's just put your position as head of the orphanage on hold for a month."

* * *

Aimi stared at the blonde model as she continued to chatter away about the Kira case—the first Kira case, back in 2004. Didn't she know how incredibly unintelligent she was? Was she that self-_un_aware…?

"…and then, Ryuzaki had us all move into this building, and it was really nice and all. Only he made sure that whenever I left my room I was with someone old, and he was always so rude! And not only that, but he was with Light and me whenever we went on dates, and that was disgusting. I know Keiko was there, too, but it was still weird, cuz he was paying more attention to Light and me than his own date, and that's just plain rude. I don't know how she stood it…"

In the living room, Keiko rolled her eyes as she heard Misa talking with (more like talking _at_) Aimi. Good grief… would she never shut up? And she didn't know the situation! Had she even known that Keiko had been pregnant at the time? _Well, she hadn't known about the engagement, that's for sure… she probably didn't know I was expecting._

"…and he probably would've just watched us on the cameras if it hadn't been for—"

Alarms went off in Keiko's head and everything seemed to slow down. She whirled around…

"…the…"

"_MIS—_"

"…handcuffs…"

"AHHH!" Keiko let loose a wanton yelp as she bounded into the parlor with every intention of dragging Misa to a gibbet. "Don't you say another word!"

The blonde turned toward Keiko, her head tilted in a fashion reminiscent of Lawliet. "What? I was just talking about the first case…"

"No… more." Keiko's face was dangerously dark as she stared at Misa.

But the damage had already been done. Aimi was curious. "Handcuffs…?"

"Yeah!" Misa affirmed. "Ohmigosh, it was so nasty. Light—" She stopped at the look on Keiko's face. "Um… maybe you should… hear the story… from your mom…"

"But Misa, you are a much better storyteller," Aimi said quietly; her wide eyes shone at the model. She was playing her just as her father had used to do.

"No, Misa!" Keiko demanded in a hard voice. "Do not tell her anything."

"But why not?" Was she really that _thick_?!

"Yes, Mother, why not?"

Keiko's hands clenched into fists. "Because. You are too young to hear this kind of—"

"Perversion?" Misa guessed.

"No!" Keiko cried. She really was about to reach the end of her rope. "No… it's… complicated… complicated and _mature_."

"Am I not mature?" Aimi wondered.

"For six, you're ridiculously mature," Keiko said with a sigh. "But you're still _too young_. We'll tell you someday."

"When is _someday_?"

"I DON'T KNOW!!" So loud was her voice that she didn't hear the knocking on the front door. Aimi slipped unnoticed from the room as Misa began to argue in shrill tones with Keiko over why or why not she was to be allowed to explain things to the children.

"It was awfully nice to tell us what we could and couldn't tell them _before_ now!"

"It never came up! I'd assumed that you wouldn't say anything because it was painful! Besides, we all agreed not to bring up the first case!"

Meanwhile, Aimi, fully aware that she was not allowed to do so, opened the front door. Standing there was a man of medium height. A dark beard shaded the lower half of his face while his blue cap shadowed his deep-set eyes. His eyes lit up. "Hey there, kid!"

"Hello," Aimi said quietly, continuing to stare at him. The man stepped back, a little unnerved. But though his smile faltered, it never fell. _Is this… one of them?! Is this one of L's children!? _Norwood had known that L had children—a boy and a girl—but he'd never seen more than a fleeting glance of them. They were elusive, like wraiths who lived in the shadows. The wife was a wonderful guard dog; she never let them answer the door… so why now?

_Oh, that's why…_ Norwood's ears caught the sounds of two female voices shrieking at one another in some strange language.

At the suspicious look on the girl's face, Norwood knew he had to state his purpose. He held out a brown package and a few envelopes. "Uh, this is the mail. Can you go take this to your mommy and daddy?"

Aimi reached out and calmly took the packages from him. "Yes, I'm perfectly capable of doing so. What's your name…?"

"Er… Norwood…"

There was a pause, and Aimi looked down at his shirt. Pinned onto it was a nametag, reading "Greg Jackson." The girl smiled, the very spit of her father shining through her features as her perversely intimidating gaze bored through the man. "That isn't what your shirt says. Is that a nickname, _Norwood_?"

Norwood blinked and gulped. She'd just played him like a fiddle. How…?! Those hypnotic eyes… those demonic eyes, the eyes of a feral beast. They did not belong to a six-year-old!

"Er, yes! Nickname. You've got it—oh…"

Behind the girl was now a much larger human… Norwood's eyes trailed up to land on the face of a very angry Keiko.

He paled. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He'd never seen a human being look so menacing before, much less cheery Keiko…! He took a step back as he stood back up. "Just delivering the mail, ma'am!" he said in a falsely cheery tone. He prayed she didn't hear his voice crack… "Nice to meet you, little lady!"

"Yes, it was very good to meet you, too, Mr. Norwood." Keiko gave Norwood one last look of fury before slamming the door.

She then turned to Aimi; her nostrils flared. "I've told you before never to answer that door! Never! You're lucky it was only the postman. But look at me, Aimi."

"I am, Mother."

"_You must never answer that door_. That door is all that stands between us and exposure. Do you know what would happen if the world found out that we are L's family?! We'd be _killed_. Do… not… open that door… again. Do you understand me?!"

"Yes, Mother," she said softly, a little miffed, as she handed the mail to Keiko. It was the first time in ages she'd been reprimanded in any way, and it rather stung her pride—especially Keiko's tone! So angry, so stinging… so snappy… Was it really necessary? Aimi did not need louder volume or more forceful words to get through to her. Just a simple statement and she'd remember it for life. Surely her mother knew this…!

"Okay…" Keiko wearily ran a hand through her hair as she carried the mail into the kitchen. Would things _ever_ be back to normal…? It seemed increasingly more doubtful by the moment.

She set the box and the envelopes on the counter and then trudged up the stairs. Lawliet poked his head out of the office and looked askance at her. "What was the cause of the yelling…?"

Keiko released a heavy sigh and kept on walking, not even stopping to look at him. "Nothing… it's dealt with…"

Lawliet frowned and shuffled after her as she made her way to their bedroom. "If it was nothing, why did you shout?"

"It doesn't matter!" she grumbled as she slammed the door. Lawliet slipped his forearm through the door just in time to keep it from closing, and he followed her into the room. "Oh, would you just go find a cave to squat in, you twit!"

He blinked. Keiko was not given to truly insulting him thus. If she did call him anything derogatory, it was in a teasing tone, with a mischievous smile on her face. She never meant any of it. She was really upset…! He watched as she flopped down onto the green velvet cushion in the window. Her chocolate brown eyes squinted a little in the sunlight as they took in nothing of the sight of their green lawn. Lawliet closed the door behind him and padded over to her side, where he knelt down. "I know this case is wearing on all of us. It will be over soon…"

"How soon?" she asked in a dull, lifeless voice. "The first case took almost a year. This one's only been two months." She sighed. "It's probably about time I went in to get an ultrasound."

"Hm." She was deliberately making things difficult for him by changing the subject. If he brought up the change in subject, she would probably try to corner him and demand why he wasn't caring about the new baby at all. But if he began to speak about the baby, then she'd yell at him and say that _that_ wasn't the issue. It was just a way to get rid of him more quickly, for she obviously didn't want to be bothered.

Luckily, he was L.

"Yes, it is almost thirteen weeks old, is it not?" he murmured. "Do you wish for me to accompany you to the hospital?"

"THAT'S NOT—"

"I realize it isn't what currently upsets you," he said calmly, taking hold of her hand to more easily and thoroughly garner her attention. "I know that this case is starting to take its toll, and with the combined troubles with Alex and the frustration from Misa, I understand that you are very disgruntled and tired. I also realize that I have not been particularly demonstrative about my feelings for you and our new child as of late. I merely wonder if my presence would turn a chore into a potentially relaxing, or at least, slightly pleasanter, outing. Doing so would also give me a chance to apologize in a more… eloquent way for my recent absence."

Silence filled the air. Keiko idly watched the tiny white specks of dust as they fell in the sunlight from the window. She swallowed. _Wow… well… he just dodged all my traps right there… Ah… _But the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of him attending the ultrasound with her. After all, he'd not done so the first time she'd been pregnant…

"Feel free to decline if you do not desire my presence," he said softly.

"No…"

Lawliet slowly stood and released her hand. "Very well." His hands took up residence in his pockets.

"No, no." Keiko stopped to shake her head slightly. "No, as in, I don't want you to _decline_. It… would be nice to have you come with me." Her expression softened. "We do kind of need to talk…"

"Indeed." He tilted his head at her. "When is the appointment?"

"I haven't scheduled anything yet," she replied with a heavy sigh. Keiko turned back toward the window. "Wish it was right now… I really need to get out of here…"

She'd slipped back into her American accent, her more practiced one—despite the fact that she'd spoken British English for close to seven years, she'd first learned American English, and thus, it came more naturally to her.

"Indeed, it seems you are in need of a break." Lawliet said nothing for a moment, and finally leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I love you," he whispered near her ear. "I once told you never to doubt that."

"I don't," she returned hoarsely. "This has little to do with you… why I'm upset right now, I mean."

"Mm. Would it help things if we took a break tonight to talk things over…?"

"It would help more if I could talk _now_."

He nodded and took a seat on the bed before inserting his thumb into his mouth. Keiko turned to look at him, and her lips twitched upward. "Déjà vu… This is just like the time when you had to interrogate me to see if I was Kira…"

"I never suspected you at all," he returned. "It was a formality I had to follow."

"I figured."

They both paused to let the sensation of nostalgia pass before continuing. "Misa was trying to tell Aimi about the handcuffs—back in Tokyo," she said softly. "I was trying to get her to shut up. And then Aimi…" Keiko inhaled slowly to calm herself. "Oh, she scared me to death, Lawliet! Aimi opened the door for the postman…"

Lawliet's expression became immediately fierce and furious. "What…?"

"They talked for only a minute, but it was so scary… I… I didn't know what to think… so I had to talk to her about that…" Keiko sighed. She looked so haggard… Lawliet surveyed the bags under her eyes, the hints of crow's-feet by her eyes, the few strands of grey in her hair that certainly hadn't been there when they'd first started the second Kira case… Most of all, her slumped posture, gaunt frame, and tired, war-weary expression told him how badly she needed a break.

By now, Lawliet had calmed enough to show the slightest hint of compassion in his otherwise neutral face. "Accidents happen, tenshi. It is all right."

"But what if it's not?" she asked, eyes now focused on the carpet. "What if it's _not_ all right? I should've been so much more careful about everything… I'm such a failure as a parent…"

Lawliet stood and attempted to perch on the remaining space on the window seat. He failed at this endeavor, and compromised by raising one knee and gripping the edge of the cushion with his toes; his other leg, mostly straight, kept him propped up on the bench-like alcove. One hand reached up to cup Keiko's cheek. "Do not talk so. As I said, _accidents do occur_. If you had been intentionally neglectful, this would be another story; as it is, you are doing your best. That is all I can ask."

"But what if my best isn't enough?"

"That is why there are two of us," he answered simply. "We make up for one another's shortcomings. To quote you, 'we are a team.'"

Keiko sighed and finally leaned into his hand. Her eyes met his, and she nodded. "Thanks, Lawliet."

_

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Yeah, kind of uneventful. BUT IT IS AN UPDATE!!! BE VERY PROUD!!! Sorry about the lack of update; I've been swamped, and working on a Flash animation vid... ugh. HARD WORK. About a week on it and I only have 40 seconds complete. But it'll be totally kickbutt when it's done. Plus my sister was hanging with BlueHarpy and me at our dorm this weekend, so I couldn't write then, and the week before that, I've had alternating writer's block, a lack of ideas, no motivation, and lots of homework. It's been killer.


	25. Breaking Down Walls

_**Disclaimer: **_**Death Note **_**isn't mine, nor will it ever be.**_

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy;**_ helped by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang**_._

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CHAPTER 25 – BREAKING DOWN WALLS

_In which Scout proceeds carefully with her charge and lots of thinking is performed_

* * *

Near mumbled a quick invitation for whomever was behind his door to enter. The hinges creaked slightly as a brown-blonde head became visible. He looked up at her blankly. "I did not expect you back so soon, Scout."

She was silent for a moment or two, then closed the door behind her. Her gaze was pinned to the floor very uncharacteristically—normally, Scout held her head high, proudly… or at least with the intention of keeping her surroundings in view. "I… have been discharged from my duties for one month."

Near made no visible reaction to this, save for growing absolutely still.

"If I do not… make an improvement of some kind at _opening up_, Mr. Wammy suggests that I do not take this job."

Near thought about this for a few moments in silence before hazarding a reply. "I take it that your presence means you are willing to _open up_ to me, if only partially." His gaze never left hers.

"As much as I hate you, you're the closest thing I have to a friend," she replied bluntly. "I may as well try. Although if you don't use different language to describe the encounter, I'll hold another knife to your throat."

"Your point is duly noted. Won't you make yourself comfortable?"

Scout wordlessly took a seat against the far wall, facing the door. Near turned halfway so that his profile was displayed for her. "One habit that you could potentially dispense with is that of finding the safest spot in a room. Wammy's is one of the most secure places in the world; you need not worry about enemies here."

"I cannot do that," Scout replied coolly. "If you'd lived my past, you'd feel the same way."

"Hm. I suppose I could similarly say that if you expect me to share any secrets with you, you are also ignorant of what trials I have gone through."

Scout shook her head. "I never said that. I know you won't say anything, anyway. The exercise is not directed to you, anyway." But rather than pity, she felt a tiny surge—was such a small feeling even worth calling a _surge_?—of admiration. Near was strong in that he was unwilling to divulge his secrets.

"You seem quite determined to secure this job for yourself," Near observed quietly. By this point, his gaze had returned to his set of Lego toys, which he idly moved around in a distracted fashion. "You intend to overcome any weaknesses in order to do so."

But were they weaknesses? Scout had always thought of her callousness as a strength. She'd not been emotionally damaged for years…

Not that there was much left _to_ damage.

_Perhaps,_ she reflected dimly, _it's time to move on…_

_But how?_

People often grew more comfortable around one another by spending time together. However, the ways in which this was done could vary greatly. One idea was to watch a movie together. That was something lots of friends did together, and they could later talk and laugh about it, or refer back to it like an inside joke. A movie was a kind of link between two people. Even discussions during movies…

With her newfound idea, Scout gazed at Near's dark eyes, which cornered over to her. "Do you think you could spare some time…?"

Near turned slightly so as to better see her. "For what?"

"Are you opposed to watching a film?"

Always so formal. Near's eyes held the faintest hint of amusement, despite the fact that his face showed no emotion whatsoever. "That all depends on the film."

"Shall we browse the House's collection and watch whatever we find on your computer?"

"That sounds reasonable." Near slowly got to his feet, and Scout noticed with mild surprise that he was nearly five inches taller than she… She'd never noticed how much of a difference it made before then, but quickly ignored it.

They made their way down the stairs and to one of the common rooms. There was a veritable library of DVDs at the children's disposal, all organized alphabetically, which posed a problem: Scout wanted to avoid anything remotely romantic, if only to prove to herself that she felt nothing towards Near. The fact that she wanted to create that distinct boundary only made her further upset—if there were no hints of attraction, then why was a boundary of any kind necessary?

Immediately, Scout purged that wicked thought from her mind and focused on the titles of the slim cases that lined the wall. A part of her wanted to search for an old black-and-white movie—generally, older movies were better than new, in her opinion. But searching for something without _any_ romance, _none_ at all, was going to be a challenge. She spotted titles like _Some Like it Hot_, _Sabrina_, _Casablanca_, _Citizen Kane_, _Mr. Smith Goes to Washington_, _It's a Wonderful Life_, _Wuthering Heights_… She saw _Dr. Strangelove_, but didn't even stop to consider _that_.

Scout was beginning to think that finding a _good_, non-romantic movie was hopeless…

Then, she saw it.

_The Treasure of the Sierra Madre_. Perfect.

The story of a man who strikes gold in the Sierra Madre range in Mexico and slowly goes mad over his newfound riches.

Scout nodded silently and pointed out the title to Near with her index finger, a nonverbal inquiry as to whether or not he found the selection acceptable. "I suppose," he murmured, twirling his hair around a finger. "I haven't seen it before, but it should be interesting."

* * *

In a bare room in downtown London, a redheaded young woman sat against a wall, staring into space while her thoughts were occupied by a certain blond. Since Lina and Carlyle had broken up two days ago—not that she'd been heartbroken in the least, just disappointed, for Carlyle had been _very_ good in bed—she began to think of ways to get Mello to ask her out. Lina wouldn't stoop to such a level as asking _him_, but she would manipulate him to ask _her_.

The jealousy tactic had failed—he'd not shown the slightest hint of envy while Carlyle was near. Lina was even wondering if it was worth it… Mello had proven that he wasn't gay at that nightclub, but that didn't mean he wasn't bisexual. Did she want a bisexual man…? Wouldn't it be weird, being able to see another man on the street and discuss his hotness with her boyfriend…? Well, to her, it was _extremely_ weird.

She wondered if she couldn't just seduce Mello and start out with a merely physical relationship, but Mello was smart. He'd either see through it or…

Lina refused to think of the possibility of Mello rejecting her. _No one_ rejected Lina Virtanen's advances. She was too experienced not to know exactly which tactics to use, and too persistent to let down.

But something within her protested at the idea of a purely sexual relationship with Mello. She craved so much more than just that. Mello was a strong, tough guy—probably one of the first she'd ever met (and liked) whom she could truthfully claim was actually tougher than she was. He was smart. He was so much _fun_ when infuriated…! And she hadn't forgotten the look on his face when she'd first met him back at that pub… When he'd seen her on that bike, he'd been nearly drooling. She wanted to see that look on his face again, to know that it was because of her…

Lina sighed. This would take some careful planning if she was going to snare Mello…

* * *

Meanwhile, a certain blond-haired man sat back against his chair, one arm slung over the back while the other lifted a chocolate bar to his lips. As much as he hated to admit it, he was falling for Lina. Lina, that idiotic, infuriating, hardened, whoring half-mafia chick who wasn't even aware of his affections. So much the better, for if their relationship became a reality, she'd be a liability to Wammy's and the safety of L. It was like an unwritten rule in Wammy's: don't fall in love. L had already broken that rule, and had been forced to not only give up two of his most important identities, but also a good two-thirds of his workload for his family. He was no longer free to travel to solve his cases, and had to divide his time much more carefully for the sake of his wife and children, and look at the problems they still had, despite all this trouble! Moreover, Mello wondered how L could even stand dealing with such a needy creature as Keiko, and two even more needy children (though that wasn't the _children's_ fault).

Was he, Mello, going to fall into the same trap? Was he going to give up his work for someone else?

Then again, was he going to be able to stand denying himself…? Perhaps he could start a physical relationship with Lina—friends with benefits. It would be so much more convenient… no strings attached, just a release. A compromise.

_Do you really want to go only halfway with this girl?_ he asked himself. As much as he admired her physical body, he had this insane urge to want to take charge of Lina, to protect her and guide her… not that she needed it, necessarily, but that didn't mean he didn't still have that desire.

No, he decided finally. He was either going to not be with Lina at all, or actually have her, emotionally as well as physically, and not one or the other.

And it looked more and more like a distinct possibility that Mello wasn't going to be able to be with Lina in any way, shape, or form.

After all, denizens of Wammy's weren't supposed to fall in love.

* * *

…and just two rooms over in the same hotel, a violet-haired young man was busy hacking into the computers at the Manga Café in hopes of finding Xavier-Allen Grey's last name. He was Jermanee's brother, and they probably shared the same name. If not, well, he could always use Xavier to get Jermanee's contact information.

A small smile crossed his face after he struck gold: Xavier Diaz.

But before Matt was going to call the number listed, he would look up Jermanee on Yellow Pages and see if she possibly lived with her brother, or not. Of course, he could also just Google her name and see what came up…

Sure enough, Yellow Pages showed only Xavier's name when he searched "Jermanee Diaz," he figured that calling Xavier himself might be his ticket to Jermanee.

Soon, Matt was out on the balcony, a lit cigarette between his lips while he listened to the ringing on the other end of the phone line. A faint click sounded, and a male voice said calmly, if loudly, _"Y'hello?"_

"Xavier?" Matt asked, a little perked up by the prospect of speaking with Jermanee. He'd barely known her, but she was kind of cute, and perhaps he could eventually snag an invite to her house to play some _Oblivion_…

_"Who's asking?"_

"Oh, I'm Matt. I was wanting to talk to Jermanee. Is… is she there, can you put me in touch with her… something?"

There was a pause. _"Uh… hold on a mo'…"_ Matt could've sworn he heard a smile in Xavier's voice. Xavier continued to speak, but the muffled quality of his tone told Matt that his hand was covering the receiver. _"Oh, Blu-u-u-ue… It's MATT."_

_"Matt…? Um… okay…"_ she responded faintly. Finally, _"Hey."_

"Jermanee," Matt greeted her warmly. "Enjoying _Oblivion_?"

That must've been the proper catalyst to trigger her memory, for after a brief pause, she burst out with _"OOOOH!"_ She laughed slightly. _"It's great. Wow, for a moment, I didn't even know who was calling…"_

Matt grinned and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air. He covered his mouth with his arm to muffle a cough, and quickly returned to the call. "Sorry. Yeah, I wondered if you'd remember."

_"How did you get my number?" _Thankfully, she didn't sound suspicious or threatening, merely curious.

"Yellow Pages," he said truthfully. "It's amazing what the 'Net will tell you." He paused. "So… how've you and Xavier been?"

_"Um, great… shut UP, Xavier!"_

Matt grinned at that.

* * *

Jermanee tossed a pillow at Xavier's head in effort to cease his laughter and teasing. "Jermanee's in _love_! Jermanee _loves_ Matty!"

She resisted the urge to scream at him, and calmly said to Matt, "Could you wait a second?"

_"Yeah, sure."_

"Thanks." She set down the phone and proceeded to wallop the still-laughing Xavier with a pillow. "SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!! He'll hear you!!"

"Oh, like I care! More fun for me!"

"XAVIER, PLEASE!!"

"Okay, _okay!_" He snickered and grabbed the pillow from his sister's grasp. "But you'd better tell me everything after you hang up!"

She shook her head in resignation and crossed the room to resume her call. "Sorry about that, my brother's being a _dorkishly nerdy geek of an emo_!" she yelled pointedly across the room. Xavier just chuckled and left the room.

* * *

"Er… I see," Matt said hesitantly, a huge smile on his lips.

_"So, what did you want…?"_

Matt inhaled slowly. "Are you free tomorrow?"

She paused. _"Yeah, why?"_

"Did you want to hang out for a bit? I could pick you up and we could, I don't know, go to an arcade or something."

_"Sure, I suppose… Yeah, that sounds okay. Er, just the… just the two of us…?"_

Matt had to grin at her reluctance. She really was cute. "I guess I seem a tad like a stalker, looking you up on the Internet and asking you to hang out with just me after only having just met… I understand if you don't want to go." But that wasn't entirely by accident. Backpedalling _might_ prove as reverse psychology, and she'd agree to the whole thing.

_"No… no, I guess it's okay. What time did you have in mind?"_

"Can I pick you up around two?"

_"That sounds okay…"_

Matt reflected dimly that while her hesitance was apparent, it wasn't so much directed toward him as just… hesitation in general. Was she just shy?

"Great! I'll see you then, okay?"

_"Okay. Bye, Matt."_

"Thanks! Bye, Jermanee!"

And he hung up with the supreme satisfaction of having something that resembled a date for the first time in nearly a year…

* * *

Keiko had searched the entire house from the cellar to the dome, and Lawliet was nowhere to be found. She was wondering if he might want one of his three desserts she'd promised him at the onslaught of all this mess, but… If he'd have been any _normal_ man, she wouldn't have worried, but Lawliet never went _anywhere_ without notifying her, mostly because it was so rare for him to leave the house itself. Needless to say, she was getting rather worried. She'd already tried calling his cell phone, and it was very unlike him to not answer it.

Finally, she called Watari over at the orphanage, to see if he might've gone there for some reason.

"Keiko, my dear. Is there anything I can do for you?" Watari's calm and cheerful voice on the other end made her relax slightly.

"Wa-tan… is L over there? I can't find him anywhere, and he won't answer his cell phone, and I'm starting to worry…"

"That is unusual! No, I've not seen him…"

"Oooh…" Keiko sighed into the receiver. "Well, I'll try his cell phone again…"

"I'll be sure to call you if I find him."

"Yeah, likewise. Thanks, Wa-tan."

Keiko slumped over in Lawliet's office chair. Where could he possibly be? As she sat there in the silence of the room, she was startled to hear a crash of thunder.

The rain…

It was raining outside—had been for an hour! Why didn't she think of it before? She dialed his cell phone number once again, and headed downstairs, listening to the dull ringing sound through the speaker. Through the living room, through the kitchen to the laundry room, to the door…

A deep rumble of thunder followed by a blast of chill wind greeted her as she stepped outside, closing the door behind her. The familiar beeping of Lawliet's cell phone barely caught her ears through the rain as it drummed against the siding of the house and flagstones of the patio. She turned and saw her husband standing a few feet away, slouching over as his neck craned upward toward the deep gray clouds. He hardly reacted to her presence, but surely he'd noticed her in his peripheral vision. Keiko's heart instantly went out to him. He was probably upset about the bells again…

Quickly, she entered the speed dial for the orphanage once again. "Keiko?" came Watari's voice.

"I found him." Without further ado, she closed the device and slowly, she approached him, laying a hand on his arm, ignoring his cold and thoroughly soaked shirt. "Hey… Lawliet?"

His head swiveled over slightly, just enough to meet her gaze with one eye. "What are you doing out here?" he asked softly. She had to work to make out his words.

"I should be asking you that," she retorted, but her tone was gentle. "The bells?"

"Mmm…" His faint hum was almost lost to the elements.

Keiko circled around to face him and lifted one hand to stroke his dark, wet hair. Almost instantly, so quickly she actually squeaked her surprise, Lawliet's arms wrapped tightly around her back, trapping her there as he leaned against her. He buried his face into her shoulder like she'd done to him so many times… She felt his fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt. He was trembling!

And Keiko relaxed. Somehow, she felt strangely secure and calm. Perhaps it was because she knew she had to be strong for him in his moment of weakness… perhaps it was because she knew exactly what was wrong… perhaps it was because she knew the display of such vulnerability showed very clearly how much he loved and needed her…

Her own arms circled around him, and she resumed running her fingers through his hair with her one hand whilst her other rubbed up and down in a comforting motion against his back. His fists tightened against her shirt, bringing them infinitesimally closer. And Keiko began to hum in his ear… She recalled the melody he'd once hummed on the morning when she'd revealed her second pregnancy. Gradually, as she hummed, she felt his tense muscles relax…

As she continued humming, as he calmed down, Keiko felt him gently nuzzle her cheek. At this point, she was willing to follow his lead, do whatever he desired. He needed that much. So she kept on humming, even after she'd finished what she knew of the song.

And his voice could softly be heard as he began to sing…

_There's snow in the air_  
_To sing me a lullaby  
My winter, come hither to me…_

_The dark nights to come  
So kiss me for good-bye  
The grace of the godland is near to you…_

The thrashing rain and distant thunder consumed the silence left behind after his voice died down. For several minutes, they remained there, stationary, unwilling to break the spell that had settled upon them.

But finally, Keiko squeezed him once and withdrew. Lawliet straightened just a bit, staring mournfully into her warm brown eyes. "Let's go inside," she said softly. "You're going to get sick and I'm getting cold."

He gave a single nod and he reached down to tightly grasp her hand in his, wordlessly following her as they returned to the house. There in the laundry room, Keiko dug through the many baskets and piles of clothing until she located a few towels, with which they could dry themselves partially—enough that they could walk through the house without dripping everywhere, that is. Keiko threw a towel around her shoulders and proceeded to gently dry Lawliet's hair, since he apparently had no desire to care for himself. His eyes closed slowly as he lost himself to the touch of her tender hands and the soft cotton of the towel. Without really thinking, his hands reached out to pull her closer to himself, and his lips captured hers in a passionate—though innocent—kiss. It was then that Keiko realized that he did not care if they tracked water over the carpets. And… he needed her…

So she abandoned the endeavor, and as he pulled back, she gave him a tiny, comforting smile. He followed her up the stairs and to the bedroom, going directly to the bathroom, where they could leave their clothes to dry. But as chilled as they both were, a hot shower was definitely in order…

_

* * *

_

So, this was a quicker update, ne? I hope it was better. I didn't get a TON of reception on the last chapter, but not a lot happened in that chapter, so I suppose I'm reaping what I sowed, haha.

_THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO PUT UP ARGUMENTS/DEFENSIVE STATEMENTS/ETC. ON LJ FOR MY SAKE!! (You all know who you are.) I LUV YOU ALL SO MUCH!! You all are the best readers ever. If I could, I'd give you all tons of donuts and cookies and strawberry sundaes and fresh pineapple. Because those things are delish. But to keep you all updated on that situation, lemon_m and I have called a truce and the matter's settled. I removed the review that had the link (I think the post is locked, too, now)._

_Also, thanks to _**Marisol Akyri **_for providing me with the lyrics to the song above! They're from L's lullaby, the one his mom sings him, and she's got an AMV of it on youtube. Search "L's last lullaby" and find the one from tutudragon16. Check it out!!_


	26. Ponderances

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the awesomely **_**Death Note.**

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy **_and helped by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang**_._

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* * *

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**CHAPTER 26 – PONDERANCES**

_In which Keiko and Light have a chat, and Scout is extremely uncomfortable._

_

* * *

_

Continued from last time…

Two hours later, Keiko emerged from their bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her so as not to disturb her slumbering husband. It was currently about six-twelve in the evening, and normally, Lawliet would be getting hungry. Keiko guessed that Light, Misa, and the twins would be, too… Her brain instantly did a rundown of what options were available for dinner for everyone (Lawliet's own dinner would definitely be a strawberry shortcake, his undisputed favorite), and finally decided that she'd be letting everyone fend for themselves—in other words, she'd set all the various sandwich ingredients on the counter and whenever someone got hungry, they'd be set.

After having set out the sandwich materials—bread, jellies, meats, cheeses, a sliced tomato and some lettuce, and other various condiments—Keiko slumped over onto the kitchen table, sighing. She couldn't stay still for long. The strawberry shortcake wouldn't bake itself…

"Keiko?"

She looked up to see Light standing in the doorway. "Hm?"

"Where've you been all afternoon? And where's Ryuzaki?" He looked at her curiously as he sat down opposite her at the table.

Keiko exhaled, staring at the wood grain on the surface of the table. "Ryuzaki's in a funk. You might remember what happened last time, when we found him on the roof of HQ in the rain…"

Light frowned. "Yeah… he started talking about _the bells_…"

She nodded slowly. "Yup. Don't tell him I told you, cuz you know how much he doesn't like you… he doesn't like anyone knowing his weaknesses. Even me." A slight chuckle came from her parted lips. "Not that it's easy to hide from someone you spend so much time with…" Keiko paused, and Light waited patiently for her to continue. "For Ryuzaki, the bells mean bad things, probably in the darkest sense of the term 'bad.' He's heard them ring before—actually in real life, sometimes—when bad things happen, and it stuck in his memory."

"So he'd automatically associate them with horrifying circumstances," Light finished, nodding slowly his understanding. "And it would explain why, when he gets upset about something, he thinks he actually hears them."

Keiko nodded. "That's about the long and short of it. So… well, what I'm getting at is that he heard the bells again this afternoon. And you know Ryuzaki—he's got this uncanny sixth sense that tells him when to be on alert. The fact that he's this frightened when nothing's happening is nothing short of nerve-wracking."

"Hm." Light looked ahead, a grim look on his handsome features. Slowly, he stood and stepped over to the "sandwich bar" to fix himself some dinner. Keiko internally smacked herself and began gathering ingredients for the strawberry shortcake. "So you were basically just cheering him up, then?"

"Yup. He's actually asleep right now…"

Surprised, Light turned around to face Keiko, his eyebrows raised sky-high. "He's _asleep_?! What'd you do to him?"

Keiko threw him a disparaging glare as she limped over to the refrigerator, and Light groaned softly. "I see…"

She scowled at him, but he'd already returned to his sandwich making. "Whenever he gets like this, the only thing that helps at all is total distraction. And… that's a pretty thorough one."

Light sighed and pulled a face.

Keiko rolled her eyes and further explained. "Hey, if you were married and your wife was that upset, wouldn't you basically do whatever she wanted, just to make her feel a little better?"

He paused for a moment. "I suppose I logically would, but it's kind of hard to see myself actually with someone…" His voice was rather quiet. Keiko wondered if he was saddened by the fact that he'd yet to really find anyone with whom he was really compatible, or jealous of the relationship she had with L (jealous that she had a loving spouse and he didn't), or… anything, really. Light was difficult to interpret, sometimes.

"Hm." Keiko sighed as she began measuring flour into a mixing bowl. "Do I recall someone from To-oh… one Takada-san?"

Light inhaled, creating a loud hissing sound that Keiko took as a sign of general dislike. "Yeah… she was okay. She knew a lot of facts, but she really wasn't very smart at all. It didn't last."

She smirked. "Oh, yes… she pursued you, didn't she?"

He nodded quietly and gave a sigh as he continued to create his sandwich. "Yeah. Happens all the time…" His tone made it painfully obvious that he was positively sick and tired of this development, now a mere fact of life. "I gave up long ago on trying to find someone. Haha, if it weren't for my pride, I'd have started broadcasting a rumor that I was gay long ago…"

Keiko smirked at that. "Well, it might be a deterrent of some kind… But I don't see many girls really caring. They'd still attack you. Sucks being a bishie, don't it?"

Light rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I don't even know if I can find someone out there for me what with everyone attacking me left and right. Hell, the other week, some guy came up to me and asked me out. That was creepy."

"Y'know, now that I think about it, announcing that you were gay, even if it was just to keep girls from attacking you, wouldn't go well for you… every single gay or bi male in Japan would come running."

"And that makes me feel _so_ much better…"

Keiko smirked. "Man… I've missed you, Light. Remember how we used to talk while you and Ryuzaki were handcuffed last time? We really should keep in touch more."

The corners of Light's lips peaked in a smile, glad that she'd gotten over the fact that he'd once been Kira. "I've missed it, too. But will Ryuzaki be happy about it?"

She shrugged. "Eh, probably not, but it's not like he can really stop me."

Light's brows raised as he stared at her in admiration. "Really? Do tell." He crossed his legs with utmost nonchalance, looking like he was only sarcastically interested.

She looked away cryptically. "I have ways of blackmailing him into letting me do things, should I wish… Honestly, he's resilient, but I'm in charge of the grocery list. It'd be interesting to see how long he'd hold out without his sweets for a while…"

Then again, she probably wouldn't have to resort to that. Lawliet could be fairly reasonable (if argumentative when he wasn't pleased), and if Light was halfway across the globe (and completely notebookless), what could he really do? What's more, Keiko could use such a method to keep tabs on him, make sure he wasn't acting suspiciously.

By this point in time, Keiko was pouring the batter into two separate pans so as to create a two-layered cake, and simultaneously cut back on the cooking time. She slid the cake into the oven and rejoined Light at the table, where he was currently enjoying his ham-and-Swiss sandwich. "So, how's all this Western food treating you?" she teased.

"I miss Tokyo…" he muttered after swallowing. "How are you surviving on all this creamy, heavy, rich food? It's ridiculous! Man, what I wouldn't do for some yakiniku…"

Keiko shrugged. "I could probably make some for you in the next few days. I'm going to the grocery on Friday."

"Oh, I wouldn't want you to go to the trouble…"

"Bull crap. But heck, I'll tell you, I freaking miss it, too! It'd be nice to have an excuse to make it, seeing as how Aimi and Alex don't exactly love Japanese cuisine…" She sighed. "They're definitely Western kids. Makes me a little sad, seeing as how they're more than half Japanese…" Keiko inhaled as she rose from her chair. "I'm going to go upstairs and see if he's awake. He hardly ever sleeps for more than a few minutes at a time, a few hours at most. And as he's upset… well, I should be there for him."

Light nodded. "If you're not down here, I'll make sure the cake's out of the oven on time."

"Thanks." She smiled. "With luck, we'll both be down before then, but I'm not going to promise anything, not when he's in one of his moods…" With that, she disappeared up the stairs to enter the bedroom she shared with Lawliet. He was still slumbering peacefully beneath the cocoon of blankets and pillows he'd burrowed into somehow, half-curled into a parody of his optimal thinking position. Carefully, Keiko slid in beside him, laying her head on Lawliet's pillow. As she surveyed him, she noticed… he was beginning to develop the tiniest of creases around his mouth, eyes, and brows. Another two or three strands of gray were visible in his thick, dark hair. Even his troubled expression enhanced the façade of age. She knew these new developments would hardly be noticed by anyone, unless they were as close to him as she. Lawliet was still young! And, she told herself firmly, they would have a great many years ahead of them, full of happiness, love, and relative peace.

Keiko sighed. Her logic argued that such was only a probability. Lawliet, as the greatest detective the world had ever known, was a prime target for assassination. His only protection was anonymity.

And she was his connection to the rest of the world. She was his weakest link.

At the realization, Keiko wanted to blame herself for the trouble they were in. _She _was the one who'd originally pulled him out of his shell. _She_ was the one who'd persuaded him to first meet someone real in the first place (unconscious though it was, Keiko now looked back on the first day they'd met with resentment). _She_ was the one who constantly taunted him with titles of "recluse," "paranoid," and "hermit."

Lawliet shifted, curling further into a fetal-style position. The tip of his thumb rested on the mattress beside his lips, as though he'd attempted to bring the digit to his mouth, but had run out of motivation or energy to do so. He looked so childlike, so innocent… Despite his current depression, Keiko could not help but see how he seemed to be at peace. In sleep, he was free from his troubles. She wondered, if this was so, why he never slept… (Well, she knew that it was a combination of being an extremely light sleeper, having a wild imagination that often granted nightmares, and simply the infantile urge to fight the vile slave master who was Bedtime.)

Keiko sighed. Even if she regretted meeting Lawliet (for the sake of his safety), she knew that he didn't. He loved her… though many days she questioned why…

A tiny smile spread across his face as she began to run her fingers gently through his hair. So, he was awake? Then again…

Lawliet stirred, seemingly unconsciously pulling himself closer to Keiko. His face ended up snuggled comfortably between her breasts, his grin growing wider by the second. Yup. He was definitely awake and lucid. Keiko sighed again. "Lawliet…" But she couldn't keep a smile from her face, either. He was being extremely playful and cheerful, especially considering how upset he'd been just a few hours before.

"Sh, tenshi, I'm sleeping," he murmured flippantly. Keiko felt rather than heard him chuckling, indicating that he was obviously in a childish frame of mind.

"No, you're not, you big goon!" she shot back, but she didn't make an attempt to move him. But at length, she had to say something. "You really like that, don't you?"

"Mm, indeed. It is a very comfortable spot."

Keiko rolled her eyes. "You're a dork."

"Does that matter?"

"Not particularly." Idly, her fingers continued to play with his hair. "You feeling better?"

There was a pause, and Keiko wondered if this was the wrong thing to ask. "Hm, yes. You are a wonderful distraction."

Keiko sighed and said nothing. Several moments of complete silence passed, and she finally moved to sit up; Lawliet remained lying there on the bed. "Are you really okay…?" she asked quietly. "What's the trouble…?"

Another pause followed. Lawliet's gaze focused on her own brown eyes and she reached out her hand to stroke his hair again. "I do not know."

Keiko tilted her head, but her expression of concern and empathy did not change. "I never know to what the fear is attributed… only that something will soon happen."

She gave a single nod and slowly adjusted herself so that she lay on the bed, her body parallel to his. She molded her lips against his ear softly. It was understood that she'd do whatever he asked at that moment. "I hope tomorrow will cheer you up."

"Mm…?"

"The ultrasound."

"Mm." One arm curved around her back to pull her closer into him. "Yes. I'm certain that it will."

* * *

_"We've wounded this mountain,"_ declared Howard on Near's computer screen. _"It's our duty to close her wounds. It's the least we can do to show our gratitude for all the wealth she's given us. If you guys don't want to help me, I'll do it alone."_

_"You talk about that mountain like it was a real woman,"_ mused Curtin.

Fred Dobbs, played by Humphrey Bogart, smirked at his friend's line. _"She's been a lot better to me than any woman I ever knew. Keep your shirt on, old-timer. Sure, I'll help ya."_

Near's gaze never wavered or parted from the screen, but a picture of Scout's scars came to his mind. Scout's wounds had never been closed… Sure, her physical wounds had left marks, but they'd healed. But her spirit was wounded. And the healing process had never been really attempted. It was like what Curtin had wanted to do in _The Treasure of the Sierra Madre_: just leave her unattended, bare, open and cut. Something had happened to Scout in her past… something dreadful.

_Of course "dreadful things" happened. Any idiot could see that._

It wasn't so much that she'd had an extremely rough past. There was one single, traumatizing event that had changed Scout forever. His mind instantly went to the memory of that horrible gash on her stomach. That had undoubtedly been the worst… did it have anything to do with this "traumatic event?"

Regardless, someone had left her as scarred as that mountain, but with no one to heal her. Eventually, he would know, he told himself. It would only take time.

Scout, meanwhile, was retreating within herself. Watching this movie with Near was having the opposite effect desired. She'd wanted to open up, but now, she was only reminded of _that time_…

_"No, T. Don't pay them any mind."_

_"Bitch, you can't tell me what to do!"_

_Her warm blood spilling onto the cold, rough, wet pavement…_

_Horrendous, agonizing, mind-searing pain… so much so that she couldn't even feel it anymore…_

_His face… angry, furious… vengeful… glaring down at her…_

_The sound of fleeing footsteps, followed by a bright light… _

_Shouts, frantic yelps, the vague sound of the Miranda rule being stated…_

_"She's alive! Get her to the ambulance…"_

_Merciful blackness… an escape from the pain…_

_White walls… a hospital…_

_The warm smile of Quillish Wammy…_

_"Everything will be all right, my dear Miss Barlow. Tell me, would you like to hear about a place called the Wammy's House…?"_

Scout's face became completely neutral. She would not dwell on it. She would block it from her mind… it had no place in the here and now… If she was to achieve her goal of being more open with her emotions and feelings, she would have to purge that memory from her mind completely and totally.

Near noticed her expression from his peripheral vision. "Do you tire of the film?" he asked softly, already knowing that this was not the case. It only confirmed his theory of a horrific incident in her past that had warped her psyche and altered her entire mindset. "We may stop if you wish."

"Please," she said quietly. "Let's stop." Never mind the fact that she must've given away some hint of a reaction… Near had probably figured it all out by that point, though, she told herself. Immediately, Scout was furious, afraid, and resentful all at once… but she stopped herself from reacting further. _The entire exercise is to let someone see what I'm thinking, isn't it?_ she reminded herself. _Just… let it go. There's nothing you can do about it now, anyway…_

Silently, Scout leaned forward to halt the DVD's progress and remove it from the laptop. She then replaced it in the plastic case and stood.

"Would you care to find another film?" Near asked. His expression would've smacked of extreme boredom, anyone else would've thought. However, Scout could see that he actually wanted to know what her wishes were… and possibly even curiosity… but to what was that directed? Her? A new movie? Her past…?

A pounding ache erupted behind Scout's eyes; she screwed shut her green orbs and rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. She didn't care anymore. Rather, didn't know what to care about. The past two months had been steadily eating away at her sanity, and she wasn't sure what she thought anymore. Did she even have an opinion? Was she even the same person?

By this point, they'd reached the ground floor, and within a few more seconds, the library was in sight, with its DVD collection and stacks upon stacks of books. But before the shelf of films stood a young boy of about seven, Timothy, who was reaching for a movie on the top shelf. He was failing miserably. Near, being significantly taller, was easily able to reach the film. He looked at the child with a slightly testy expression and blinked. "Which film is it that you seek?"

Timothy's eyes snapped wide open at being face-to-face with Near, no doubt a rather intimidating occurrence. "Er… well… _Coraline_…" The boy gulped and took a step back. "I'll go ask the libra—"

"Here." The plastic case was pressed into his hand by Near, who had retrieved it effortlessly from the shelf.

Timothy's eyes grew wide in surprise and gratitude, and he smiled. "Thanks, Mr. Near!" He scampered off with the film.

Scout watched the exchange with a calm expression. She felt a little warm, and she fought a little against a smile. What was this new feeling…? Suddenly, as she looked at Near's profile, studious and solemn as he perused the titles on the shelf, she found herself drinking in his dark eyes, soft lips, curly white hair, and round face with interest. He looked… _attractive…_

WHAT?!?

Scout was shocked.

Was she turning into one of those ridiculous schoolgirls with a crush…?! On _NEAR_, no less?!?

Needless to say, she was extremely confused. All she knew was that her system was, without warning, flooded with adrenaline. Her heart beat faster. Her breath was shallower… and she was definitely feeling warmer.

She had to get out of there.

ASAP.

Her body was sending messages reminiscent of times in which she'd been in fights back on the streets. She felt on-edge and totally alert… and somehow exposed… threatened…

Scout swallowed and focused on the titles of the shelf. Maybe she could feign sickness… that could get her out…

_No, you can't do anything. You're trapped. Unless you want him to find out what you're thinking, you have to stick around and play it cool._

_Unfortunately, that just gives him more time to observe me._

_You have to go. Somehow. Does it matter if he finds out…?_

_ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!_

Angrily, she knew that was right. The best chance of her "escaping" without him noticing was to wait out an entire movie, or until something happened, some outside force that pulled her away from him.

She prayed it was soon as she watched him pull out _The Fellowship of the Ring_, extended edition DVD.

Her hopes were dashed into a thousand tiny pieces.

She was positive that _The Lord of the Rings_ would be forever spoiled for her.

_

* * *

_

Dang it all, I thought I was gonna put some Matt/Mello/Jermanee/Lina in here… Guess not. THAT'S NEXT CHAPTER, I PROMISE!! I WILL HAVE THEM IN THERE!! AND L/KEIKO AND THE ULTRASOUND! IDK about Near/Scout. But anyway, you'll be seeing lots of different POVs in the upcoming chapters. That's good, right? A lot of you seemed to like it last time. I hope so. Anyway, I hope this was okay. A quicker update, ne? :) Just know that poo is about to hit the fan… hehehehe…


	27. Alexander and the Faramir Complex

_**Disclaimer: Don't own the **_**Death Note**_**.**_

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; helped by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang.**

**

* * *

**

CHAPTER 27 – ALEXANDER AND THE FARAMIR COMPLEX

_In which Matt and Mello are at odds, Alex makes a rash decision, and Keiko and L are sappy together._

* * *

Keiko squeezed Lawliet's hand as they sat together in the small, pristine white room in the hospital. "You know it's okay…"

He shifted and looked away to bite his thumbnail. "Mm, yes…"

"I arranged for Dr. Peterson to see us…" Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand as she turned to look more closely at him (or the back of his head, as his gaze was focused elsewhere). "You okay…?"

"Mm, yes… merely distracted." He turned back to her and met her eyes for a brief moment before turning to stare at the floor.

If he didn't look so worried or distracted about something, she would've found his nervousness endearing. "What about?" she asked softly. She hoped it wasn't the bells…

"We shall discuss it later," he said softly. That told Keiko quite a few things: one, that it was serious, two, that it involved his identity (or at least, secrecy, so perhaps their family?), and three, that he simply didn't want to talk about it at the present. If he'd wanted to, he'd have found a way to discuss it then and there.

"Okay…" She paused, and a smile crossed her face. "Hey, how about we go get some ice cream after this…"

At the prospect, Lawliet's eyes lit up and rounded on Keiko, as though silently asking her if she was serious. She grinned at his enthusiasm and rolled her eyes. "Geez, you're like a kid. I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

"No… I suppose not."

At that moment, the door opened and Dr. Peterson, who was now completely bald, walked in. He smiled at Keiko and Lawliet and shook their hands (hesitating only just slightly before approaching Lawliet). "It's been a while! Nearly seven years…?" He smiled again.

"Pretty close," Keiko agreed with a shrug. "I'm impressed you remembered us, Doctor."

He didn't bother to say that Lawliet's was a hard face to forget once an actual acquaintanceship was made—he made quite an impression.

After a bit of small talk, Peterson asked for Keiko to lift her shirt; she allowed him to smear a strange kind of gel on her abdomen. Keiko twitched at the cold temperature of the cream and shivered. Peterson chuckled as he shucked off his gel-covered glove and lifted a device that looked rather like a white plastic showerhead.

In a few short moments, Peterson had retrieved a moving, color image that popped up on the computer screen, shifting just as he shifted the probe. Keiko gave a tiny smile and exhaled in what sounded like simultaneous relief and adoration. She watched as the image seemed to contract a little as her muscles did so, and she straightened up, trying to keep fairly still. A grin painted her face as she looked at her husband, who was completely entranced by the image on the screen.

"And… there it is," Peterson said softly. He frowned as he surveyed the image of the fetus. "Oh… kay…" he said slowly, seriously.

Keiko's brows contracted and she stared nervously at Peterson. "That tone means nothing good," she observed quietly.

Peterson paused and thrust his tongue into his cheek. "It looks like a case of type II placenta previa," he elaborated. "This basically means that the placenta, here," (he pointed to it) "lies low in your uterus. It's actually touching your cervix a bit. At this stage, all you should do is be very careful. Don't do anything remotely strenuous; I'd say lay off exercise, as well." He paused. "You're not on bed-rest, so you can walk about the house as normal, but do not run, do not jog, do not jump, take stairs very slowly, going up or down." Peterson shrugged noncommittally. "In many cases like yours, Mrs. Lawrence, when the uterus expands, the placenta stays in place, and by the time you are ready to give birth, is no longer close enough to the cervix to prevent a natural birth. The worst-case scenario, provided there are no further complications, is if the previa persists, which will mean that you'll be on pelvic rest—minimal walking, no intercourse, and as little movement as possible."

Keiko nodded in understanding. "What other… implications… might this have, should it not move?" she asked.

"It basically means that you'll have a C-section when it's time to give birth," he said easily. "I know you may not like it, but you won't be able to give birth naturally without severe complications. The placenta may completely block your cervix, which will prevent your son from passing through the cervix—hence the C-section. Like I said, that's the worst-case scenario."

Keiko blinked, and Lawliet's face actually broke out into a smile—what Keiko called his creepy, pedophile smile. "Son…?"

Peterson smiled a little nervously. He'd never liked Lawliet much, and was rather unnerved by him. "Yes, he is male." He shifted the transducer again and typed something in on the computer with one hand. "Right… there."

Keiko grinned profusely, completely entranced by the image. Peterson saw the matching looks of excitement on their faces and removed the transducer to stand and shut off the computer program with a wry, knowing smile on his face. "I suppose that means you'll want to discuss a few things." He stood to hand Keiko a towel from one of the cupboards. "I'll be back in about ten minutes…"

Keiko began to wipe off the still-cold gel; the door clacked shut. She raised her gaze to meet Lawliet's, and smiled almost shyly. Silence reigned for a few moments, and Keiko used this time to finish ridding herself of the gel. Lawliet stood, his bare feet slapping on the tile floor as he padded over to her. One hand plucked the towel from her grasp and dropped it onto the table on which she'd been sitting. He thrust one hand into his pocket as he stared at her intently; Keiko's smile widened.

"So… I was thinking of naming him after Watari… OH!" Lawliet's arms wrapped around her tightly and his lips pressed against hers. She chuckled as he kissed her and threw her arms around his neck to bring him closer.

After a moment or two, Keiko pulled away, only to have Lawliet continue to kiss her cheeks, nose, eyelids, jaw, ears… Keiko began to giggle and she pushed him forcibly away. "Okay, I get it! I get it, you like it!"

"Very much, tenshi." He smiled adorably as he leaned his forehead against hers. "I am very glad to have accompanied you today."

This cute behavior did not seem very like Lawliet, Keiko observed silently, but she said nothing—it wasn't often that he was so excited about something. Come to think of it, the only three times she'd seen him this happy were after they'd first made love, when the twins were born—and Aimi was declared healthy—and after their honeymoon began. All three times, he'd expressed himself differently: by smiling and teasing, by _crying_ and refusing to let go of Aimi, and by something similar to his present actions…

**.:FLASHBACK:.**

_Lawliet closed and locked the door behind them and turned back to Keiko, smiling as his arms wound their way around her. His lips pressed softly against hers. "Welcome home, tenshi," he breathed._

_Keiko smiled and reached up to run one hand through his hair and hook her other arm about his neck. "I can now introduce myself as Roraito Keiko," she joked quietly in Japanese (1). It was understood that she wouldn't, but it was the principle of the thing, the freedom to be able to introduce herself thus. And at that moment, he seemed so adorably happy…_

_He smiled again, and kissed her repeatedly. He couldn't help it… she was so beautiful… so lovable… so… so happy, so glowing… so… his…_

_It wasn't that he was being particularly possessive, but the knowledge that he finally had a real family to call his own was intoxicating. He hadn't had a family in over twenty years…_

_And yet, here she was, there in his arms, carrying his children._

_Lawliet's hands slowly slid across her body, down her arms, playfully, to grasp her hands, and he brought them back up so that their fingers intertwined at shoulder-level; the backs of her hands pressed against the wall. She peered into his dark eyes, so full of emotion, as they so often _weren't_… She blushed under the intensity of his gaze, and grinned once more. "I love you, Mrs. Lawliet…" he whispered._

**.:END FLASHBACK:.**

A grin crossed her face. "You get crazier each day, you know that?" she teased.

"Mm, yes. They refer to me as a mad genius, but I believe that is debatable." (2)

"So… do you want to name him just 'Quillish' or some form of derivative, like 'Quill' or something…?"

"I rather like the idea of using Watari's actual name, Quillish." He tilted his head slightly. "Am I to understand that you are no longer opposed to the name…?"

She rolled her eyes, recalling the time when she'd once protested of naming Alex "Quillish." That had been back when Aimi was going to be named "Aiko…" She gave an amused chuckle at the memory. "No, I'm not opposed to it… I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise, you nerd." By this point, their only physical connection was through their interconnected hands, which hung at their sides as Keiko shifted her weight from foot to foot. Lawliet watched her, amused by her restlessness, no doubt a byproduct of her excitement. Seeing their child on that computer screen made it all the more real to them… it was no longer a vague concept, but a reality. They were going to have a son.

Quillish Lawliet.

Watari will be so pleased, Lawliet mused. "Is ice cream still on the agenda?" he asked softly.

Keiko just laughed and laughed… He really was irrepressible.

* * *

Alex sat on the edge of the stairs inside the house and heaved a sigh. He and Aimi had been left alone with Watari while their parents went to London for some trip. Alex hadn't cared enough to ask, though he presumed Aimi and Watari knew. Like it mattered. They were probably just having fun while he was forced to do chores and homework.

Only he wasn't… Watari was taking a nap, so he had free reign. Alex didn't care so much about his adoptive grandfather resting—he was an old man! Of course he'd get worn out quickly. It was just… he wondered if anyone cared about him anymore. He hadn't heard from Ferdy, Sampson, or Emily, or anyone, for that matter, since he'd left. Well, thank heaven his week at home was almost up. He'd be back to classes soon enough.

But did he really want to continue at the House anymore, when he was the underdog? Why bother? Why not go to a normal school where he'd be actually on top of everyone else, where he'd actually get the recognition he deserved…?

Where he could get friends who admired and respected him, adults who praised his work, and teachers who catered to his talents…

It sounded like a dream come true.

But what of his home life?

Maybe he could live on the streets, say he had no parents… maybe some young couple would see him, fall in love with him, and take him home like a lost puppy… paperwork could be decided later, whereupon he would give them a false name.

He was so sure he could pull it off. But how to exact his revenge…?

Running away wouldn't be enough—if they truly didn't love him, his absence would be more blessing than curse. He would have to do something besides…

Alex shrugged. He could figure out something while he packed. Besides, revenge was secondary—escape was first.

He quietly mounted the stairs and entered his room, where he began to stuff his things into a backpack—not too much, or he'd never be mistaken for a waif-child. No, he packed his grimiest, baggiest, most comfortable clothing (silently thanking his father for being so lax about fashion), and grabbed the small, pastel-colored giraffe plush toy Watari had given him the day after he was born. It was old, ratty, and a little dirty—perfect. If he claimed it was his only toy, besides a Rubix cube with a couple missing stickers, he might be able to pull off a decent charade. People would surely take pity on him! Who, after all, could resist such an adorable face…? Alex stood before the floor-length mirror in his room and widened his eyes, dredging up a few tears—just enough to make his eyes shine—and stuck out his bottom lip just slightly…

Perfect.

Should he bring his toothbrush, fresh underwear, or a towel, a pillow…? A blanket…?

No, he decided, for he was a young child, who was not supposed to think of such things. Moreover, it would show that he'd planned the whole thing, ant the last thing he wanted was to be sent back by a pair of cops with condescending smiles and pitying, yet sarcastic, words. His parents would only be further disappointed in his lack of genius.

But having thought of these possibilities, Alex felt like he'd already outsmarted them all.

Grinning in his assured triumph, Alex shrugged on his backpack and silently descended the stairs to the first floor and opened the door to the outside world. It was safe, he knew, as he was assigned chores there. Who would care?

Alex crept around the house to the side that faced the orphanage. Staying close to the white siding, a great grey _something_ caught his eye…

The power box.

His eyes lit up with the possibilities. Again, he celebrated his own unappreciated mental prowess and pried open the door to reveal the mass of wires that lay within.

But what to do, now? Frowning, Alex just gazed at the strands of blue, yellow, red, black, and green, trying to figure out what he could do to inconvenience them all… not enough to harm anything, really, just maybe knock out the power for a while… they'd be kept busy for a few hours and they'd have to get some new wires, but they could always buy new ones, have a specialist or something come in and rewire everything. In the meantime, his family would have to stay at the House—his parents, too. That'd teach them to banish them to the orphanage! Let them get a taste of their own medicine!

But the sound of tires crunching over the gravel drive made Alex panic. Without turning to see who or what caused the noise, his fist curled about a bunch of the wires and he leaned backward, pulling, pulling…

_Come on, please…!_ he pleaded silently. _Please… come… ON!!_

Finally, with a _snap!_, they broke free, and Alex fell backward onto the grass. Stars flashed behind his eyelids as his head hit the ground, which was still a little softer than normal from yesterday's rain. After a moment or two, he recovered enough to stand. With a smile, he trotted around the front of the house to see a mail truck there. Oh…

The man was placing another box on the front steps after knocking on the door to inform his family that they had mail.

While the postman was busy there, Alex darted behind the bushes and over the gravel to the truck. He quickly hopped into the back of the lorry, which was already open, and shuffled his way into the back of the lorry. There, he reasoned, he could get a fair distance without being noticed. At the least, he could get farther away from his parents' house. The less steps he had to take, the better.

The darkness closed in around him as the postman shut and locked the back door of the lorry.

Soon enough, Alex felt a slight lurch, a few boxes nudged into him, and he was off. In the dark, his smile grew wider. _Running away is easier than I expected, _he thought gleefully as he sat in the darkness.

* * *

Twelve-thirty, and Mello burst into the room he shared with Matt. "Come on. We need to restock."

Matt looked up at him with ample indignation. "What?! You can't just drop that out of nowhere, mate! Give us some warning!"

"Like you have a previous engagement," Mello muttered, irked. He could feel the vein on the left side of his forehead pulsing dangerously. He needed chocolate, and he was down to three bars.

Matt glared at him. "I have a life, you know! And yes, I _do_ have a previous engagement!" He mimicked Mello's tone to mock him. "I'm taking Jermanee out."

Mello frowned. "You're taking a country _out_…?"

Matt's eyes narrowed. "She's a _girl_, you twit. Her name is Jermanee, Jermanee Diaz. I told her I'd take her out today."

The blond snorted his derision and rolled his eyes, taking a much-needed bite of chocolate from the bar in his hand. "So don't go. We need more bullets, we need more food, bits (3), a new camping lantern, and most importantly, more _chocolate_."

Matt scowled at his friend. "What?! You're ridiculous… Can't that wait until this evening?"

"No!" The chocolate was mandatory.

"Dude, go get it yourself!"

Mello's eyes flashed dangerously. "Let the girl go, Matt. It won't go anywhere, anyway."

"Just like you and Lina," he shot back. "Hypocrite."

Only the slightest of pauses followed, wherein Mello's first thought was a long string of expletives.

His recovery was swift. "Who said I wanted to be with her? She's just a hot chick I can bang and move on." All lies.

Matt saw straight through it. "Oh, yes, which is why you've not lost your virginity yet! Not to Sasha, back in Colorado, or Miranda in Brooklyn, or Stephanie in Sacramento, or Ashley in Glasgow!" Matt's eyes hinted at his intense anger. "Admit it! You either love her, or you don't, and you're not going to _bang_ her unless you're going out with her." He paused again, and lifted his chin in the air, triumphantly staring down his friend. "Admit it. You're pwned."

Mello snarled at him. Matt had hit the nail right on the head, but he was not about to lose. Matt _was_ going to go with him…!

It was time to get serious.

* * *

Matt glowered as he drove the car into the parking lot of the grocery store. He'd complied with Mello's orders, but it hadn't been without a fight. His eye had been blacked and he'd been kicked rather viciously in the groin by Mello, and was now aching profusely. Inwardly, Matt was simultaneously furious at Mello for having done that to him, but also rather sad. Sure, he and Mello had had their fights—what friendship didn't? And having been together for so long, well… it was inevitable. But this was undoubtedly the worst. He hated being at odds with his best mate, but…

The wound was pretty fresh—his body ached enough to prove that—and Matt wasn't going to cave and call a truce just yet…

Matt pulled the car into a parking space and put it in park before removing the keys and crossing his arms huffily. Mello, after taking charge of the keys, kicked open his door and Matt, wincing, followed suit by exiting and following inside like a whipped cur… albeit a very rebellious cur. But Matt was still planning his revenge…! He wasn't about to go down that easily. _Not that I'd call that "easy,"_ he thought morosely, resisting the urge to make a running leap into one of the freezers for a bag of corn or peas to put on his aching privates.

But the key was to distract Mello without him noticing…

Perhaps…

Nonchalantly (that was his plan, _nonchalance_… Matt inwardly cursed himself for being too lazy to come up with a better scheme), Matt knocked a can off the shelf with a loud _CLANG!_ Mello turned, and Matt, directly beside him, slipped the keys from his vest pocket with the ease that came from years of pickpocketing.

Mello grunted after the fallen can and continued, turning down the next aisle…

…while Matt backed away and made a break for it.

_Jermanee, here I come…!_

_

* * *

_

Knock, knock!

Jermanee hurried into the living room, wrapped hastily in a towel, hair dripping, looked through the peephole at a familiar face… Instantly, she gasped and blushed. "Uh… uhm… Just a minute!" Matt was over a half-hour early! She wasn't ready!!

Outside, Matt grinned at the note of panic in her voice. "Take your time; I know I'm early."

Jermanee ran through the apartment to the bathroom, where she hastily threw on her clothes (flannel pants and a baggy T-shirt) and wrapped the towel around her head like a turban before dashing back out to open the door. There Matt stood, black eye, purple hair, and all. Her expression twisted into one of bewilderment as she surveyed his slightly ragged form. "What happened…? And your hair's… purple…"

Matt shrugged and shut the door behind him. "Eh, I just got into a spat with my mate… and my hair's _violet_."

Jermanee giggled at his pedantic comment about his hair. "I see…" But she paused and blushed, covering her mouth with a hand. "Oh, I'm sorry… I didn't mean about your fight with your friend! Do you want some ice…?"

Matt thought about accepting it, but decided that it would be too tempting to place the ice not on his eye, but between his legs. "No, thanks. I'm good." He gave her a dashing smile and looked about the place. "Nice little place. Much better than mine…" He chuckled.

Jermanee shrugged and looked at the floor as she shuffled her feet. "It's all right, I suppose…"

Matt had to grin at her bashful behavior. "Hey, don't let me keep you from getting ready," he said quickly. "I was going to leave on time, but… well, my mate wanted me to run some errands and I had to steal the car from him while we were out and about, so I'm early."

Jermanee gaped. "You left your friend stranded?"

"What goes around, comes around," Matt said airily. "It's what he gets for giving me a shiner." At the look on her face, he blinked and backpedaled. "No, we've been best mates for years, and that's not gonna change… but we're just… having a row right now."

She gulped and nodded. After a pause, she gestured to the couch and headed back to the bathroom. "Have a seat… um… I'm gonna get ready…"

"Take your time," Matt said cheerily, smiling brightly. "No rush." He was enjoying picturing the look on Mello's face…

* * *

"DAMMIT!!"

Mello growled audibly as he realized Matt was no longer with him—and neither were the keys. Matt had run off.

And he was stranded with naught but a squashed ego and a list of items to purchase.

Growling, he pulled out his mobile phone…

_

* * *

_

Thirty-one minutes later…

Lina burst out laughing as she looked at Mello's look of anger and frustration. "Oh, to think that I have to rescue big, bad _Mello_ from being stranded! This is a day that shall live in infamy…"

Mello treated her to his best scowl. _To think I had to call LINA to bail me out… Matt is going to pay for this one…_

But Mello looked at Lina and the vehicle she'd brought to take him back to the hotel.

Her BMW motorcycle.

She grinned evilly and tossed him a helmet. "Guess who's ridin' bitch?" (4)

* * *

(1—"Roraito" is the Japanese pronunciation of "Lawliet.")

(2—Okay, if you can tell me this line's origins, I'll give you a cookie and glomp you. Hint: it's in another LxOC fanfiction. In other words, I don't own this line exactly, just part of it.)

(3—Bits, as in, lock-picking devices…? I think that's what they're called…)

(4—Refers to whoever's riding "passenger," if you will, on a motorcycle. That's… well, it's one term for it, anyway…)

_

* * *

_

Keiko and L are SAPPY!!! Sorry if you're all dead from massive amounts of overly-cute flirtation and sap. But... y'know... they kinda needed it. They've been under a whole lotta stress lately and haven't had much time for the sappiness.

_ALSO!! I was recently reminded about the _Casablanca _line I had back in chapter 19… That was when Scout and Near were talking. "This is neither the time nor the place." "Then we shall state another time and another place." It copies the exchange between Major Strasser and Victor Laszlo in Rick's Café Americain._

_Alex… WHY?!?! Your parents love you, you dolt!_

_Oh, Matt's gonna get his butt pwned… *whistles* RUN, MATT, RUN!!_

_P.S. - Haha, _**Siean Horoc**_, I know I just told you, what, an hour ago that I wasn't going to post until Saturday or Sunday, but I figured... meh, why not post now? :)_

_P.P.S. - The title, if you didn't catch the reference, is from _The Lord of the Rings_. Faramir is the son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, and Boromir's brother. Boromir is Denethor's favorite, while Faramir is pretty much hated. He believes that his father may eventually be persuaded to love him if he's dead/gone and ends up going on a suicide mission to prove it... that's in the third movie; I completely forget what happened in the book. :P_


	28. Ready, Aim…

_**Disclaimer: If **_**Death Note **_**were mine, I would not type in rhyme.**_

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; helped out by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang**_._

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CHAPTER 28 – READY, AIM…

_In which Alex is discovered, Light makes a heroic move, and Norwood moves up in the eyes of his bosses._

* * *

Alex squinted as a bright light entered the back compartment of the lorry in which he was stowed away. He wasn't sure how long he'd spent there in the darkness; there weren't a whole lot of packages left to deliver, so it may have very well been an hour or two. Once Alex's eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the familiar bearded postman standing there with a look of shock on his face. "What the—you're the Lawrence boy!"

Alex wasn't sure how the man knew his name, but he shrugged it off. "What if I am?"

The man's eyes narrowed for a moment, though it was hard for Alex to tell, as the man was silhouetted by the light behind him.

There was a pause. Alex began to wonder if he'd be sent back… "What in the world are you doing here?" asked the man.

Alex blinked, not having expected that question. "I thought the truck looked cool, so I decided to check it out," he said quietly, lamely, silently praying that the man would buy it. "But then I got locked in…"

Norwood, meanwhile, was busy thinking about how this would boost his status in the Syndicate. Here, a windfall had just landed right into his lap without him having done anything to gain it! Trying to play "friend," he gave him an apologetic look and stepped aside, holding the door wide open for him. "I'm so sorry, kid! I didn't know you were back here!"

"Y-you're not mad?" Alex's eyes widened as he took a tentative step towards the doors.

"No, it's an accident! It happens," Norwood assured him. "Hey, come sit up front with me. I can't imagine it's comfortable sitting back there."

Alex stepped over the few boxes in the lorry and poked his head to look at their surrounding location before hopping onto the ground. "It's not horrible…"

Norwood chuckled. "What's your name, kid?"

Alex swallowed and paused. Should he give his actual name—his _first_ name, rather? He knew better than to say his true surname, but he'd always gone by "Alex," even in the orphanage. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to even give that away. But his father only went by his first initial… "Call me 'A,'" he said seriously as he peered up at Norwood.

* * *

Watari awoke to a strange scent in his nostrils. For a moment, he lay there on the couch, eyes closed, and tried to regain his bearings in the wake of his afternoon nap. But that smell… musky… cloying… somehow both welcoming and threatening… Frowning, he sat up, only to see a heavy gray haze above his head. A faint crackling sounded in his ears…

Smoke.

Alarmed, he held his sleeve to his mouth to cough and then breathe through the fabric. It wasn't a second later that a raucous blaring filled the house with sound as the smoke alarm went off. Watari stood and was about to head right up the stairs when Aimi came running down with a rare look of panic in her eyes. "Get outside!" he told her urgently—he refrained from yelling only because it would likely scare her further. She obediently did as asked and Watari hurriedly mounted the staircase. "Alex! ALEX!"

"Watari!"

He turned to see Light Yagami standing there, a little confused. "Mr. Yagami—find Alex…"

The young man nodded curtly. "I'll get the basement and downstairs…" He was gone down the stairs in less than two full seconds.

"Alex!"

There was no response, and the smoke was only getting thicker as it followed him up the stairs. Watari coughed again and removed his cardigan to clumsily tie it around his nose and mouth like a filter. He poked his head into each of the rooms to find… nothing… He went through a second pass on each of the upstairs rooms, looking into the closets, behind the doors, and into the bathroom… Before heading back downstairs, Watari opened the door to Lawliet's office and swiftly unplugged the computers.

"Watari, he's not here!"

Light loped into the now very hazy room and looked at the older man with fear in his eyes. "Let's get these computers outside before we go…"

"I told Misa and Aimi to go search outside," Light said hurriedly, as though speaking more quickly might hasten their task. He quickly gathered up all the cords to the desktop tower and scooped it into his arms, abandoning the monitor. That could be replaced; the information on the hard drive was more important. Watari retrieved the two laptop computers on the desk and they both made their way out to the front, coughing as they inhaled the fresh air.

After they'd gone several feet from the house, Watari set down the computers and laid his palms against L's 1940s Mercedes to lean forward. He breathed in raggedly, gasping for clean oxygen. The sweet scent of newly mown grass made him cough harder and Light looked at the older man with concern. Watari waved his hand at Light to indicate that he'd be fine momentarily.

Light set down the tower in the grass and pulled his mobile phone from his pocket to call the fire department.

Meanwhile, the door to the House burst open and Mr. Collins, the bald and rather pudgy mathematics teacher, came jogging out toward Watari. "We…" he gasped and wheezed for a moment in attempt to regain his breath, "we can't… find him…"

The door opened soon after to reveal Misa flouncing out toward Watari and Light. "Light-kun…!"

Light held up his hand to her to tell her to not bother him at the moment. She shut her mouth. "Ah, yes, the address is…" Light jogged back to the front step to retrieve the package left just recently by the postman. He read the address off the box and paused. "Yes… thank you." With that, he shut the phone and replaced it in his pocket. By now, orange flames were licking at the side of the house, not enough to destroy it, but enough to cause extensive damage. The fire department would be there before the house completely burned down. "I'm going back in," he announced, and ran back through the door in search of the missing Alex.

Watari frowned and shook his head at the sight. Now somewhat recovered from the smoke in his old lungs, he used his own mobile phone to call Lawliet…

* * *

Keiko buckled her seatbelt and shut the door behind her before inserting the keys into the ignition. She smiled in amusement at Lawliet's attempts to secure his own belt whilst he clumsily sat in his strange way. They'd just finished their ice cream, which had improved his already-high spirits. "Well… let's go home," she said with a grin.

A loud peeping sounded from Lawliet's pocket as Keiko started the engine and brought the machine into drive. Lawliet fished the phone out of the denim and opened it. "Yes…?"

_"Ryuzaki…"_ Watari paused to cough again, and Lawliet frowned.

"What is it?"

_"You need to come back as soon as possible…"_

"Watari?"

_"There's been a fire… and we can't find Alex…"_

Instantly, his eyes widened in horror. "Y-yes…"

_"I'm… sorry…"_

"Yes… thank you, Watari…" he said quietly in an awkward tone. He shut his cell phone and let it fall to the floor of the vehicle; one hand curled tightly around his calf as he bit down harshly on his other thumb.

Keiko looked over at him with ample concern. "What? What was that about?"

"The bells… have started again…"

"Lawliet?!"

"Fire… and Alex is gone…"

Keiko felt her head spin crazily as she tried to focus on driving the vehicle. _Focus! Focus, Keiko! Get home as fast as you can… You can do it! You're a cop…_

She gulped and gripped the steering wheel tighter as her foot slammed down on the gas. "Okay…" she breathed. "I-I'm sure… he's somewhere…"

Neither of them noticed the a very familiar mail truck driving toward them in the opposite lane…

* * *

A knock sounded on Near's door. Scout instantly stood, glad for a distraction from the film. Her heart had been pounding wickedly the whole time, and she was entirely too tense. Perhaps she could use this as an escape from Near…

Aimi stood there behind the door, surprised that Scout was the one who'd answered. She'd gone looking for the young woman, but after failing to locate her, decided to come to Near.

Scout watched in sudden horror as a single tear ran down Aimi's pale cheek. "What's wrong?"

Hearing Scout's words and the tone of urgency in her voice, Near paused the film and turned to see Scout kneeling before Aimi, who buried herself in Scout's embrace. "Alex! He's gone!"

Scout held the young girl close. "Shh… I'm sure he's only out in the woods or hiding in the House somewhere."

"Our house is on fire!" Aimi managed to squeak. Her chubby fingers curled into Scout's Manchester United jersey.

Near's eyes widened in surprise. One finger instantly traveled north to curl into his white hair as he watched Aimi begin to cry softly in Scout's shoulder. Scout turned her head just enough to look back at Near, who nodded at her. "I'll go check in the woods. He may be there again." He reached for his shoes.

Scout's green eyes widened at the suggestion. Near, checking the woods…? He'd trip over every little stick on the ground and end up scraping his knees and hands a thousand times… but he was still willing to go. Scout's heart gave a thump as he passed her to exit the room. His footfalls echoed in the hallway as he bounded toward the staircase, and Scout licked her lips. Why was he doing this? Why was he suddenly offering to do things by himself instead of finding someone else to do it…?

She shoved her questions from her mind and returned her attentions to Aimi. "Sh… don't cry so. You'll only get a headache." Her voice was soft and gentle—motherly—as she raised one hand to stroke Aimi's long hair. "We'll find Alex. Near is going to help look for him."

Aimi nodded into her shoulder and sniffed loudly. A few more tears escaped her eyes to soak Scout's shirt, and she lifted her head to gaze at the young woman. "Do you promise?"

Scout reflected how amazingly childlike the young prodigy could be—just like the rest of her family. They could all be either incredibly mature and grown-up, or vulnerable and infantile… Scout didn't want to lie to the girl, but then again, she did need comforting… _With L on the case, he WILL be found,_ Scout told herself, _but the manner in which we find Alex may not be what we hoped for…_

"Yes, I promise."

* * *

"KAKASHI!!" Jermanee grinned and pressed her palms against the glass of the store's window to peer inside at a poster of Hatake Kakashi from the _Naruto_ anime series. Matt chuckled at her suddenly bright and bubbly demeanor. He was rather surprised by how quickly this girl was growing on him, but pleased, nonetheless. He wanted to pass it off as just sheer giddiness at being on his first date in a year, but he knew better. He and Jermanee had a lot in common: they both loved video games, from Mario to _Bioshock_ to _Devil May Cry_ to _The Sims_; they both liked to watch anime, though Matt rarely had a chance to do so, while Jermanee religiously followed at least seven different shows in addition to the DVDs she owned; they both liked comedy movies, cheese crackers with whipped cream, and they both hated the great outdoors and the entire _Naruto_ enterprise (with the apparent exception of Kakashi, for whom Jermanee had a rather unexplainable liking).

Matt had parked the car several blocks back, as there would be no parking anywhere near the arcade, and they'd begun to walk toward their destination. In that first hour of walking (okay, so Matt didn't need to park _that_ far away), Matt had coerced several bits of information from her, despite her shyness. But Matt was a good conversationalist and tried to make it easier for her.

As Jermanee looked through the window to the anime merchandise within the store, Matt chuckled and took a deep pull on his cigarette before flicking it down onto the sidewalk. "Come on." He stepped inside the store and sighed in relief as the air conditioned coolness washed over his body. Jermanee, who apparently abandoned all shyness when her favorite anime characters were involved, stared in awe at the selection of products and merchandise. She grinned and quickly made her way to a rack of plushies. "Half-price plushies?! Yes!! Oh, there's so many to choose from," she said with mixed glee and disappointment as her eyes perused the characters. Matt stared at them all, pointing out to himself which ones he knew to entertain himself. Sadly, there weren't many…

"…Kisuke Urahara, Kaname Kuran, Uryu Ishida, oh, Uzumaki Naruto, ugh…" Matt grinned at Jermanee's quiet voice. She murmured aloud which ones she saw, internally debating over which one to buy. "…Ed Elric, Ichigo Kurosaki, Roy Mustang, oh, wow! Souji Okita, I haven't seen _that_ one, before…"

Matt had to smile at her enthusiasm. "Any idea which one you want?"

Jermanee colored and shuffled her feet. "I don't know… I'm sorry, maybe we should go. I'll end up taking way too long to decide… I'll just come back later…"

He lifted the baseball cap off her head and twirled it around on one finger before catching hold of the brim and fitting it back onto her head. His hand skimmed down toward her shirt, and as she looked down, he brought his finger back up to bump up against her nose, making her smile shyly. "What's your hurry?" He smiled cheerfully at her. "I don't mind." For once, he found himself not having to use his signature Lady-Killer smile. He was just genuine, relaxed Matt. That fact alone made his heart skip a beat. He'd not been himself around a woman for the longest time… It was a refreshing change to be able to do so.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Seriously, there's no rush. Take as much time as you like."

After another few minutes in front of the plushie rack, they meandered slowly around the store. Jermanee browsed through the DVDs idly, then moved on to the posters, where she spent a little more time. She fell in love with the Kakashi poster she'd seen through the window, which was, in reality, a wall scroll; she picked it up to buy and sighed with contentment. "I think I'm ready."

"Nothing else?" Matt wondered.

She shook her head. "No, I shouldn't spend much if we're going to the arcade, later. I have a budget." But she looked longingly at the plushies…

Smiling, Matt strolled over to retrieve three of the plush dolls from the wall: Grimmjow, Souji Okita, and Kaname Kuran. He then ambled over to the DVDs to pick out a _Wallflower_ disc, and he placed them all on the counter beside Jermanee's poster. "Live a little," he said with a grin.

Jermanee blushed at this and hung her head. "I… suppose…"

A blonde woman with rather large breasts stood behind the counter. Jermanee noticed the amount of cleavage she was showing, and instantly hung her head. Of course, she herself wasn't wearing anything half that revealing; in fact, she was completely in grunge: torn, baggy jeans, baggy T-shirt, sweatshirt tied about her waist, baseball cap over her messy ponytail, worn-down Converse sneakers… She must look like a dump compared to the semi-stylish female working the register.

The blond looked at the total and sighed with boredom. "That's… fifty-six pounds—"

Before the poor cashier could figure the rest of the total, Jermanee squeaked and shook her head. "Oh, I've gotta put some of this back…"

"No worries," Matt said easily, handing the woman a plastic card. He smiled down at Jermanee without a second glance at the blonde.

Jermanee's eyes widened. "You don't have to do that…! How will I pay you back?"

"Like I said," Matt retrieved his card from the cashier without even glancing at her, "no worries. I've got it covered." He grinned as he took hold of the plastic bag containing the purchases. "We still going to the arcade?"

"I… I suppose…" She hung her head a little and bit her lip self-consciously.

Matt led her out of the store and looked at her with mild concern as she continued to avoid his gaze. "Hey, what's up? You're not upset that I bought this for you, are you…?"

"Well, not exactly…"

"Then what's wrong?"

"I… I don't know how to thank you, Matt. That's so nice of you…"

"Well, since I wasn't planning on taking you to dinner, I figured I'd better buy you something!" He chuckled. "Hey, come on, I'd feel guilty if I didn't get you something. Just consider this my treat."

"O-okay…" Her lips curled upward.

"Ah, finally, a smile!" Matt grinned at her. "That's better."

The sound of a motorcycle hummed in the air; Matt dimly registered this fact until he heard a loud shout. "Hey, Matt!"

His eyes widened. "Oh, fu—uh-uh-uh-udge," he finally managed to say, switching halfway through the word as he caught himself. He turned, and he caught a flash of blond hair as it was caught by the wind.

Mello glared at him as he held his helmet in one hand. "WHERE THE HELL—"

"Hey, hey, buddy, calm down! And don't say that—there are ladies present." Matt glared at him meaningfully.

Mello scoffed. "Oh, come on! Will you listen to yourself!?" He shook his head and his look of anger intensified. "Get in the car; we're going back!"

"No!" Matt crossed his arms. "Dude, stop shouting and calm down."

"Mello, he's right," Lina said as she pulled off her helmet; one hand brushed her mussed red tresses from her face. "There's no need to cause a scene."

"You shut up!"

Lina rolled her eyes. "I suppose that's all the thanks I get for giving you a lift…" She hopped off the bike and sauntered over to Jermanee, putting her arm around her shoulders and leading her off several feet. "Sorry about him. He's a real nutcase, but he means well… sometimes… Just… if he doesn't get his chocolate, watch out." She chuckled. "His anger'll beat out a woman on PMS any day. I'm Lina, by the way."

"I'm… Jermanee…"

"Ooh, that's a pretty name!" Lina's eyes lit up and she stared with interest at her newest acquaintance.

Jermanee shyly fiddled with the free-hanging sleeves of her sweatshirt tied about her hips. "I was named after my father, German, who was named after St. Germaine…"

"That's so cool!" Lina said genuinely. "Ha, I think my parents just named me cuz it sounded okay."

Their conversation was halted by a loud shout behind them. "—_you don't get the HELL back to the headquarters RIGHT (BLEEP)ING NOW, I SWEAR TO G—_"

"Hey, HEY! BUDDY! CALM THE HECK DOWN!" Matt gripped Mello's shoulders and shook him vigorously. "Listen to me! OKAY!"

A red-faced Mello glared at Matt, but he quieted down.

"THANK you…" Matt threw the two women an apologetic look. "All right. I'll come back. Just… stop shouting, and stop swearing."

"Since when the (BLEEP) did you care about swearing?" Mello scoffed, crossing his arms belligerently.

"There are ladies present." Matt gestured toward Lina and Jermanee.

"Wow, I never realized it," Lina said softly. "Matt can be quite the gent when he wants to be…"

"Yeah," Jermanee agreed. "A little unconventional, but…" She smiled.

At that moment, Matt left Mello to approach them. He sighed and looked Jermanee in the eye. "I'm sorry. I've gotta run. I'm so sorry, Jermanee—if you want, we can reschedule…?"

She nodded and blushed. "I'd like that."

"Come on. I'll drive you back."

Lina turned to Matt and placed one hand on his shoulder, intentionally standing far enough from him to show Jermanee that they were only friends. "I'll deal with Mello and take him back."

"Thanks, Lina. I'll be back ASAP."

She nodded and her hand fell down to her side. "Nice to meet you, Jermanee! Maybe I'll see you later, ay?"

Jermanee blinked. "Maybe…"

* * *

Alex grinned as he stared at the large buildings whizzing by his window. Apparently, part of Mr. Jackson's mail route extended to London, and he was highly enjoying himself. He couldn't believe his plan had worked out so well! He'd made it far enough into the city that he'd be easily able to escape to an alley, cover himself in dirt, and pass himself off as a lost orphan child.

Norwood, or Jackson, was silently singing his own praises. _If I can just get him to Mr. Andrews, we'll be in business. I'll be secured as one of the higher-ups…_

Higher status meant more leisure time and less work, but also more luxuries and better spoils. He envisioned himself enjoying something a little better than dollar-wine and canned foods—maybe not Dom Pérignon and caviar, exactly, but just something that was a step above.

Now all that remained was not spooking the kid.

The minutes passed in peaceful silence, and Alex began to realize… Jackson wasn't stopping every so often to deliver mail… in fact, he was just driving straight through London to a slightly shadier side of the city… Upon seeing the place where he'd probably have to hang out to make his charade believable, he began to wonder if he'd made the right decision. _Of course you have, now, calm down. It's fine. You're just jittery._

But as the neighborhoods got worse and worse, Alex began to worry. He did not want to run away… But Jackson was nice enough. He'd just have to ask to go back at the end of the day. That was all there was to it.

Norwood pulled out his mobile phone as he directed the lorry into the parking garage beneath the abandoned hotel and pulled it to a stop. "Mr. Rayne…? There's someone here you'll want to meet—and Mr. Andrews, too." He smiled so as not to frighten the child. "Right—yes, I'm in the garage. I'll meet you in the lobby."

Norwood snapped his phone shut and turned to Alex with a smile. "Come on. I'll let you meet some friends of mine."

_Now_, Alex grew wary. He began to wonder if there might be a way out of this… "Er… I think I've seen enough, Mr. Jackson. May we go back?"

A look of anger flashed across Norwood's face before he composed himself and gave a forced smile. "In a bit, A. It won't take long."

Alex gulped. "O-okay…" He knew he was in trouble and began to regret ever having left the house. _If I'm really sorry, will Dad come and get me? _He knew that not all stories ended happily, not everyone lived through ordeals like this—his father's job depended on a lack of happy endings in the world. But… would his parents even come and get him, after he'd been such a poor son? Did they even still love him…? A sharp bite of adrenaline surged through his system as he hopped out of the cab. _I'll have to fend for myself,_ he thought with determination. _Maybe, if I agree with everything they say, I can last long enough to get away and I can run back home…_

Norwood impatiently walked beside Alex and led him up the stairs into the lobby of the abandoned hotel. If he hadn't been so scared, Alex would've found it rather fascinating. They rounded a corner and in the dim lighting, two figures stood across the room. One, a shorter, fatter man, raised his arms in welcome. "Norwood!" His gaze shifted to Alex. "Now, who is this young man?"

"Mr. Rayne," Norwood began, "this little guy followed me back here. Can't we get him some tea? It must be past teatime…"

Rayne nodded and smiled at Alex. "Of course, of course!"

The other man, taller, thin, dressed in all black, gazed down at Alex. His neat black hair gleamed in the meager lighting behind him, and Alex caught a glimpse of his flashing purple eyes. His red lips stretched out in a grin. "What is his name…?"

Norwood chuckled. "His name is A."

Ansel Alessandro's smile widened and a low chuckle sounded in his throat. "I see…"

_

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AAHHH! No, Alex, no!! (I apologize now for anyone whom I hinted that Alex wasn't going to be kidnapped. I tried to avoid outright lies, but I definitely hinted at the impossibility of it… but I didn't want to give anything away. Sorry!)

_The quote from the last chapter that I eluded to was actually from Mel1983's amazing DN fanfiction, _Before I Fade_. Takes place in chapter 36, I think._

_BAD things happened, I know. Updates (except the next one, due to finals) will be faster, now, so stay tuned—everything's starting to really pick up, now. And this is only the tip of the iceberg…_

_Review?_


	29. …Fire!

_**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Death Note**_** or its characters.**_

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; helped by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang.**

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_I LOVE HOW YOU ALL PANICKED AFTER THE LAST CHAPTER!! Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. X3 Just so you know, it only goes downhill from here… *cue evil laughter* BlueHarpy says she feels sorry for you all, cuz you're all reading a story by two psychotic people. We then proceeded to have a simultaneous fit of evil laughter… I'm pretty sure we scared some people in the other rooms of the dormitory…_

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CHAPTER 29 – …FIRE!

_In which Alex and A formally meet, the fire department arrives, and Near is disgruntled._

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After having run nearly every red light and stop sign in sight, Keiko and Lawliet followed the column of smoke in the distance towards their house. When they arrived, Keiko didn't bother to pull up in the driveway, but turned into the grass on the edge of their property. After hastily putting the car into park, she jumped out of the seat and ran across the lawn toward the small crowd before their house, which consisted of a few firemen, Watari, Misa, and Light, who was flanked by a pair of paramedics and hooked up to an oxygen mask, and a few policemen.

"Hey, Lawrence!" called one of her former coworkers, Max Ortega, in mild surprise. "This your place?"

Keiko bit her lip and blinked away a stray tear at the thought of Alex missing. "Yeah…" She quickly turned to Watari. "Have you seen Alex?"

Watari coughed weakly and shook his head. Keiko noticed his tousled hair and askew glasses. His cardigan looked a little smudged and wrinkled, but other than that, he appeared to be okay. "No… we haven't."

Keiko turned her attentions to Light, who was seated in the back of the ambulance as he was being fed oxygen. He was covered in dark soot and smudges everywhere, and looked absolutely terrible. "Light-o?" she said sharply, approaching him. "You okay?"

He nodded haggardly and breathed in slowly.

"He was inside, looking for Alex until the fire department dragged him back out," Watari said softly behind her. "It would not surprise me if Ryuzaki's animosity toward him lessened dramatically after today… He is suffering from severe smoke inhalation."

Keiko's eyes widened and she instantly dropped to her knees before the ambulance. Light blinked at the sight… and she bowed down, three fingers from each hand touching the ground in a gesture of deep thanks—the paramedics wouldn't allow her any closer. (1)

A gentle hand curled under Keiko's arms and she was coaxed to her feet by Lawliet. Keiko turned to him with a look of surprise—she didn't expect him to be out there with all the authorities… But then again, Watari would've taken care of the publicity and explained everything thus far. He probably wouldn't need to interact much with anyone here. But what shocked her even more deeply was when she saw Lawliet staring straight at Light… and he nodded once his thanks. For him, it was a pretty big gesture of gratitude.

Light gave a weak smile and raise his hand a little in acknowledgement.

Lawliet wrapped one arm about Keiko's shoulders and they turned toward their house…

Keiko gulped and bit down on her lower lip. One side of the house sported a thirty-meter wide, seventeen-meter tall hole which showed directly into the parlor, kitchen, and part of Alex's bedroom. Smoke still rose from the wreckage. Keiko turned halfway to Lawliet and silently gripped a handful of his white shirt in her hand while the other reached up to clutch at his shoulder, as though to keep herself from falling down. Lawliet's embrace tightened, and there, they silently took in the damage.

"What if…?" Keiko began, but she trailed off. _What if he was killed in the fire?_

"No, tenshi," he whispered. _He can't have been killed or the entire atmosphere would've been different. We would've been informed by now._

"It was some kind of electrical fire," came Max's voice from behind. Keiko and Lawliet turned toward him. Max sighed and shook his head ruefully. "I'm sorry, Lawrence… Er, Mr. Wammy's informed us that you'll be staying with him?"

Keiko nodded. "That's right." Where else _could_ they stay, besides another hotel?

"We've filled out a missing persons report," he continued, eyes awkwardly avoiding Lawliet's intense gaze. "I'm so very sorry… about your son…"

"Thanks, Max," Keiko responded softly. "Thanks for all this."

"Hey," he gave a half-hearted smile. "As you would say, 'it's my freaking duty.'"

Keiko gave a smile that lacked any real amusement.

Soon, Misa approached them both. "Aimi's back at that… the orphanage," she said softly. "We searched everywhere, but we can't find Alex… Watari even said something about… Nia? He went searching, too, but he can't find him, either."

"Near?" Keiko repeated in surprise. She broke free of Lawliet's arms and jogged over to Watari. "Did Near go searching…?"

Watari nodded. "Yes… he went out into the woods to see if he'd maybe gone playing, but he's not there at all."

Keiko blinked in surprise. Her heart was overcome with a whirlwind of emotions: joy at their newest soon-to-be son, a heavy, crushing ache at Alex's absence, a wrenching sorrow for the loss of their home, gratitude toward Light and Near…

But what of Aimi…?

"I'll definitely thank him later… but where's Aimi?"

Watari swallowed before responding, "She's at the orphanage with Scout."

Keiko nodded and placed a hand on Watari's shoulder. "Come on back… we need to get you some water, and you need to sit down."

Watari protested a little, until Lawliet finally overruled his desire to remain outside and helped his father-figure to the kitchen of the House while Keiko went in search of Aimi.

It didn't take long; Keiko found her daughter and Scout in Watari's office. "Oh, thank God, Mrs. L," Scout breathed. Aimi instantly ran to her mother, who sat down on the floor and held her in her lap. For several moments, no one said anything, but then, Aimi began to cry again.

Keiko began to hum Lawliet's song to her gently while rocking her back and forth in her embrace. Aimi buried her face in her mother's shirt and sniffed. Already, her tears were slowing down.

"We're going to find Alex," Keiko whispered confidently to her daughter. "We're going to find him. It'll be all right…"

Aimi did not contest this.

Keiko mouthed a grateful "thank you" to Scout, who nodded and stood beside her silently, like a sentinel.

After five minutes, Aimi's tears ceased, and Keiko stood beside her daughter and reached down to take her hand. They went back downstairs to the kitchen to meet Lawliet and Watari (who was seated at the table, drinking a glass of water); Scout followed. Aimi ran to her father the instant she saw him, and he gladly picked her up and held her in his arms so that she was eye-level with him. "Mummy and Scout say that you'll find Alex…"

"Of course I will." What struck Scout and Keiko was that she was so incredibly vulnerable and open about it… She wanted constant reassurance that her brother would be returned to her. It was like she'd suddenly returned to the six-year-old mentality that should've been hers, that had been stolen from her by the inheritance of her father's genius.

After a few minutes of comforting his daughter, Lawliet kissed her cheek softly and set her down. He shifted his gaze to Keiko; she recognized in his eyes a look that meant business. "Scout," he said in his monotonous voice.

"Yes."

"Please bring Light Yagami inside at the soonest possible moment. When you've found Light Yagami, find Near, as well. We will be occupying Watari's office. Take Aimi with you."

Aimi looked up at her father, and he knelt down before her so that he could give her one last hug. "Alex _will_ be found."

Aimi nodded against her father's shoulder. "Okay." With that simple word of acceptance and the unspoken understanding that her parents needed to search for him alone, Aimi took hold of Scout's hand and followed her out to the front lawn of Wammy's.

Lawliet turned to Watari. "Will you be well enough to aid us in fifteen minutes?" he asked.

Watari nodded. "I am well, now—"

"Watari, please," Keiko said softly. She paused, not wanting to offend the man's capabilities, but he _was_ over seventy and he _had_ just inhaled quite a bit of smoke. He was not as strong as he once was. She compromised. "Could you bring up a cake in fifteen or twenty minutes?" she asked. "You know as well as I that once L gets settled into his _work mode_, he'll want sugar to fuel his brain."

He gave a tiny, bitter smirk. "Yes. I see. Understood."

With that, Keiko and L were practically sprinting through the building and up the stairs to Watari's office. "Computers?" Keiko asked as she skidded around the corner.

"There," was his gruff answer, and within another two seconds, they were in the office. Sure enough, Lawliet's computers had been saved from the fire, and were now sitting on Watari's desk. Lawliet took the seat behind the desk. There was no monitor for it—it had been presumably left at their now-uninhabitable home. Keiko instantly ran off to one of the classrooms in search of a monitor while Lawliet switched Watari's own monitor over to his own tower and powered up his computer. Soon enough, a monitor was acquired, and Keiko was hastily carrying the object back to the office to hook up to Watari's tower. There—that was four complete computers: two laptops, L's computer, and Watari's. They'd need all four, if she knew what L had in mind.

Sure enough, a soft, husky voice sounded in the doorway as Keiko moved one of the laptops to the floor for herself. "Hey…"

Light Yagami.

Keiko jumped to her feet as her laptop whirred to life and threw her arms around Light's neck. "Thank you," she said softly. Light gave a grim half-smile and stood there, silently enduring Keiko's hug of gratitude.

There was a sigh as Lawliet stared at the man around whom his wife's arms were wrapped. "Mm… I suppose I do owe you a thanks," he muttered grudgingly.

Light just gave a single, solemn nod. "Don't worry about it," he murmured quickly, a little awkwardly. His hands raised to grip Keiko's arms. "Calm down, Kei-Kei. This isn't helping Alex. Let's get to work."

Silently, they both sat at their respective computers (Keiko on the floor before the desk and Light on the opposite Lawliet at the desk). In another minute, Near padded in, looking highly disgruntled. His white pants were stained at the hem and at the knees with dirt and grass; his left sleeve was torn, and his shirt now sported patches of off-color, no doubt the result of his foray in the woods. His hair, even, was freshly tousled from running. His dark eyes glared at the three occupants of the room, daring them to say a single word about his appearance, but he entered silently and retrieved the laptop computer from the desk before finding his own corner in which to conduct his own part of the investigation.

"Right," said L in a strained voice. "Let's begin…"

* * *

Matt sighed as he slid into the driver's seat of the car. He'd already opened the door for Jermanee, and she was already seated and buckled, ready to go. The sack of anime merchandise sat at her feet. She hung her head a little, rather disappointed for their "date" (if it could be called that" to be at an end. "Listen, I'm really sorry about this," Matt said softly before he turned the key to the ignition. "Mello… well… he… First of all, I've got to apologize for him, because he's got no manners at all." Matt inhaled sharply. "But about this…" How to explain without blowing their cover? He'd only just met the girl… was she to be trusted?

Matt smirked sadly. "Well, I guess… I'd tell you about the situation, but then, I'd have to kill you, and I'd hate to be responsible for the death of such a lovely young lady." He grinned at her, and Jermanee smiled and blushed before averting her gaze.

"It's okay," she said, "leaving, I mean. I… you shouldn't have any trouble on my account."

"Meh," Matt said noncommittally. "It's got nothing to do with you, it's just… interrupting time with you, is all." He brightened, suddenly. "Well, I guess I should be happy, because this just gives me an even better excuse to see you again!" He flashed his white teeth at her in a friendly smile.

Jermanee couldn't help but smile at his charming manner. "I guess so."

* * *

Mello grumbled incoherently as he tossed his helmet to Lina. They'd returned to the garage beneath the hotel, and he didn't even so much as thank her. He just up and left, stalking with long strides for the staircase that would grant him access to the hotel itself. "Hey!" Lina cried out, her voice echoing in the mostly-empty garage. "Mello…"

"What?!" He whirled around with a furious look on his face. His blond hair whipped around and got in his mouth, completely ruining his menacing image.

Lina covered her mouth with one hand to hold in the giggles that were threatening to bubble out of her mouth. "I… hehe… er…"

His blue eyes rolled just slightly and his eyelids descended. There. He couldn't see her—couldn't see anything but that strange dark crimson background of his eyelids, with flashes of blue-green where the lights had been. He sighed heavily. "Lina…" Long pause… He revealed his blue eyes to her once again. They stared at each other in silence for a very long time. Lina, drawn by his magnetic gaze, took a step or two closer to him…

"Thanks," he mumbled. _Lean down… if you lean down, you'll be able to manipulate her later. She'd be a willing pawn… you know it… in more than just work… Look at her… she's practically panting for you… _It was true. The look on Lina's face screamed her infatuation for him, and she slowly licked her lips. Mello watched as her pink tongue traced around her mouth… so soft… so inviting… so beautiful…

_And you'll be pulled into your own trap. _Mello had the coherence to realize that if he so much as kissed her, he'd not be able to stop himself from… well, any number of things: from pinning her to the wall, stripping her down, and claiming her as his own; from depending on Lina for tasks to the exclusion of all others, which would mean spending more time with her, which would inevitably mean risking his identity's exposure; from falling completely, totally, and one hundred percent in love with her…

Though the last one might've already occurred…

Mello's eyes narrowed slightly, and he growled something under his breath as he turned and stomped out of the garage, leaving Lina standing there, open-mouthed. "Mello—!"

Already at the staircase, he turned to her. "What?" His annoyance had returned to his tone.

Lina's mouth bobbed open again, but she shook her head. "Nothing… I'll… er, I'll tell you later."

Mello turned and rolled his eyes where she couldn't see it, and walked up the stairs.

Lina stood there, listening to the strange sound of his boots as they mounted the concrete stairs… _shf-klik, shf-klunk, shff-stump_… It was so strange… no man had ever affected her this much before… at least, not since high school, anyway. She bit her lip and self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ear. After gathering the helmets, Lina trudged up the stairs…

* * *

A tap sounded on the door. Olivia White's eyes narrowed slightly. Why now? She'd just gotten a break… Couldn't she have a single half-hour of peace? Was that really too much to ask?

But she stood like the obedient mafia bookkeeper she was and opened the door. But it wasn't Piers or Mr. Andrews or Jack…

"Lina?"

The young redhead looked at the tall brunette and sighed. "Auntie Ollie, can we talk…?"

"Yes, of course…" Olivia placed her carefully manicured hand around Lina's shoulder and ushered her into the room. "What's the matter?"

Lina sighed and sat down on the floor before her aunt's navy loveseat, upon which Olivia seated herself. "It's Mello… I think… I think I'm in love with him…"

* * *

Ansel Alessandro smiled broadly at the young black-haired boy before him. A, he'd called himself. _What a delightful piece of irony!_ he thought giddily to himself. The moment Norwood had mentioned the boy's name, Gukku behind him had begun laughing uproariously. A himself had only barely contained his laughter. _L, can you imagine your own son _(who else could it have been—he looked exactly like L, only there was something much more noticeably Asian about him) _introducing himself as A, your "demented, suicidal successor?" Oh, to see the look on his face…_

Presently, the two As were alone in one of the rooms on the second floor. A hadn't wanted to make Alex trudge all the way up the stairs… it would've been far too much work, for they would've come straight back down.

Currently, he took a sip of tea. "So, young A… why is it that you came here?"

Alex shrugged. "I didn't mean to come _here_, exactly, Mr. Andrews… I just… got here."

A chuckled and replaced his mug of tea on the table between them. "Indeed… Well, since you _are_ here, it's only right for me to act as a proper host and give you a tour." He stood, and Alex followed suit.

As if he'd only just noticed it, A blinked and innocently stared at the tea left out on the table. "My, weren't you hungry?"

Alex shook his head. "No, sir. It does look marvelous, but I'm just not very hungry."

"As you like. I won't force you." A opened the door and allowed Alex to exit before him. "Isn't this place fascinating?" he asked offhandedly. "A perfectly good hotel, devoid of any markings of a commercial establishment."

If he were to speak truthfully, Alex would've had to admit, it _was_ kind of cool. Instead, he shrugged.

"Oh, how terrible of me," A muttered to himself. "I shouldn't be using words that just fly over your head—"

"I know what you said!" Alex retorted in a tone that was borderline snappy. But he paused. "I'm sorry, sir."

A's eyebrows raised. _I'll wager anything this wasn't Norwood's doing,_ he thought to himself. _Everything in the boy's demeanor points to extreme anger and pent-up frustration. He knows full well that he shouldn't be here, and is a little frightened, even… but he's still angry… _

_L's boy ran away… how delightful!_ This would only make his victory that much more potent…

"Oh, my apologies," A responded quickly. "One doesn't often meet such intelligent children. I forgot I was speaking with a seven-year-old—"

"Six…"

A allowed his violet eyes to widen. "Truly? How extraordinary…!" He paused. "I was speaking as I would with an adult." He allowed another silent moment. "I expect most adults are condescending toward you—patronizing, even. They can't appreciate your full capacity because they don't believe it."

Alex stood a little taller. Despite his fear, despite his thumping heart and the adrenaline pounding in his veins, there was finally someone who understood him. "You could say that…"

_This will be all too easy,_ A thought with a smirk. He led Alex to the staircase and headed back down to the main floor. "I had a similar problem," A said softly. His steps grew slower. "I was once in a place called the Wammy's House…"

Alex's eyes snapped wide open. _What?! The House? No way… No one knows about that place…_

"Ah, you've heard of it?" A said in mild surprise. He turned to look down at Alex with widened eyes. _And… this is how I gain his trust. No doubt his father poisoned his thoughts with the notion that the House, and everyone within it, is safe. Safety means that something is trustworthy… he'd be able to let down his guard, there. Unfortunately for L, he hasn't yet taught his child that trust is a flimsy illusion in this hardened world. But this is a great opportunity for me…_ "Extraordinary… but it explains a great deal. Your intelligence can only be a product of that establishment." He smiled gently. "What a pair we make, you and I." After a moment or two, in which Alex finally managed to nod slightly, A turned to lead him down a bare hallway on the ground floor. "What a wonderful coincidence. If nothing else, it explains why you introduce yourself with only a single letter. Is Quillish Wammy still there, the old man?"

"Yeah…"

"And Roger?"

Alex nodded. "They were both there when you were there?"

A gave a solemn nod of his head. "Oh, indeed. I'm surprised they're still living…" He chuckled lightly. "I assume, then, that you've heard of the great detective L. He was always Wammy's pet."

Alex gulped. Now, _that_ was a bit creepy… the mention of the Wammy's House was nearly too much of a coincidence, but the mention of L, as well, and so quickly… did he know who Alex was…? Was this all some kind of setup? He shook his head. No… that was ridiculous… "Yeah, we hear from him once in a while."

"Hm." A shrugged. "I suppose I shouldn't think he'd ever return there. He never did like showing his face. But I grew up with L, if you'd believe it…"

Alex tried to show avid appreciation for this—after all, he, technically, was being groomed for the possibility of following in his father's footsteps. However, Alex had been told that it was only once someone reached the age of eight that, if he or she showed any aptitude for deductive work, the training to become one of L's protégés began. But everyone in the orphanage idolized L. L was their model, their elusive example of what they could one day only hope to be. "You _knew_ L?! Whoa… What was he like?" Alex's eyes widened in concurrence with his act.

A chuckled at the boy, but inwardly groaned. Oh, this was going to be slightly trickier than he thought… no matter. It would only take a little more work. "Yes, I did. I was actually one of his successors…"

Alex blinked. He hadn't been expecting that… "So… did you become a detective, too?"

The older man inhaled a deep breath theatrically. "No, I did not. There were a few of us who were in line to become the next L, should something happen to him. I was first in line. I was A, in my day. But my A stood for _Alternate_, just as B stood for _Backup_ and C for _Copy_. There were five of us." Alessandro turned to center his solemn purple gaze upon Alex. "The work we had to complete in order to qualify for the title of successor was… horrendous." He averted his gaze to a corner and stared like he was lost in his memories. By now, they'd stopped walking altogether and stood in the dim lobby of the hotel. "I couldn't handle it. But… to simply give up being a stand-in for the world's greatest detective… it was failure. Those from Wammy's… don't easily accept failure."

Alex stared up at the man in black… so similar to him… here, _here_, was someone for whom he'd been searching… someone who could truly understand his position…! Alex felt a small flicker of hope blossoming in his chest. Maybe he'd made the right decision to run away, after all…

"But I wasn't going to give up," A continued. "I was going to find a way to escape, but in such a way that I would not suffer shame. I faked my own death." He turned back to Alex, a wry smile on his face at the boy's growing incredulity. "Yes—extreme, I realize that. I escaped Wammy's House. And I ran away. I am free—free from the slavery of that dreaded House."

Alex gulped. "I… ran away, too…" he said quietly. "I didn't want to put up with it anymore! It was way too difficult, and no one there even acknowledges any of the work you do… it wasn't worth it…" he finished.

A's eyes softened. "I never thought I could find someone with whom I could truly empathize, dear A," he admitted. "Indeed, this is a lucky day for the both of us!"

Alex smiled. "I guess so…"

His red lips parted to show white teeth in Alessandro's wolfish smile. After several moments of staring at one another, he cleared his throat. "Well—er, I suppose we can finish the tour while we talk. Shall we?"

The boy nodded and followed the man as he opened a door just a few meters down the corridor behind the front desk. "After you…"

Alex willingly entered the dark room. He frowned. What was the deal here…?

Before he could blink, A flicked on a flashlight and slammed the door. "Oh, Alexander… I'm afraid you've got no idea what your life has been like."

Alex blinked and gulped. The fear was back, full-force… He took a step back and stumbled over something in the darkness. "Wha—what?!"

"Don't panic, my friend," A said gently. "I don't want any witnesses to this conversation, for what I have to say is confidential. Fewer know of what I'm about to tell you than the number of people who've seen L's own face."

Alex's eyes snapped open. "What…?"

"I have a story to tell you… about a man named Beyond Birthday…"

* * *

Lina sighed. "Well… that's about it…" She'd spilled everything to her aunt about her and Mello. Olivia sat there in silence for several moments.

"Wow… that's… quite an… interesting way you've gone about things…" Lina had told her _everything_, from her initial conversation with him in the pool room to her tactic of dating others to goad Mello into jealousy to giving him a ride that afternoon. "It's rather… strange… I always assumed he was camp…"

Lina gave a half-hearted grin of amusement. "I did, too, for a while…" (She'd explained the incident at the Blue Moon club, which proved that he was likely either bisexual or straight.) "But… I don't know what to do… I'd rather have him come to me than actually come clean with my feelings, you understand?"

Olivia nodded. She well knew her niece's love of manipulation. For whatever reason, Lina had the idea that it was somehow more romantic if the male confessed his love to the female, not the other way around. But for someone with such traditional views of male-female roles, she was quite _modern_ in her sexual behavior—"waiting until marriage" was definitely something she'd not done. "If you want him that badly, you may have to say something. He's… very intelligent," she said softly. "Mr. Andrews even testified to this." And they _all_ knew, all of them in the Syndicate, how incredibly intelligent Mr. Andrews was. "If you're not careful, Mello might succeed in manipulating _you_."

Lina thrust her tongue into her cheek. "I know…" She swallowed and sighed. "Thanks, Auntie." She stood to her feet; the conversation was over. She'd needed to talk, to vent, and she'd done so. That was it. That was all that had been necessary; now, she would go and solve her problems herself, like she'd always done. That was one thing that Lina prided herself on: she only needed a confidante, not an advisor.

"Lina…" She turned back to her aunt with a quizzical expression. "I should tell you, Mr. Andrews has in his custody a child of six years by the name of Alexander. He is high-priority and high-security, as well… I just thought you'd like to know that before you discover him on your own and get upset."

Lina's grey eyes widened, but she nodded. "Th-thanks, Auntie…"

* * *

Matt trudged down the hallway of the hotel toward the room he shared with Mello. His sullen expression was rather evident—he hadn't bothered to check his emotions. No matter—being thwarted on a date was a common enough problem. Not like anything that needed to be hidden…

He swung open the door to his room, only to see Mello sitting on the cot in the corner. The blond's gaze swung over to zero in on his friend. "_There_ you are…" His tone was a guttural, menacing grumble.

Matt's eyes narrowed. For once, he actually wanted to stand up to his mate. "If you want me to apologize, think again. Just let me do what I want for once, would you?!"

"We have an agreement!"

"Oh, yeah?" Matt shot back heatedly. "What's that, whenever your best mate wants to do something, you drag him in the other direction out of sheer selfishness and spite? Cuz that's what I'm seeing!"

Mello opened his mouth to yell out some fiery retort, but was interrupted as the door to their room swung open—Matt hadn't closed it all the way. In came Lina, eyes wide and cheeks a rosy red from running. "Mello!!" She jumped across the room to burrow her face in Mello's chest. Mello's blue eyes snapped wide open in surprise and confusion.

"Lina, what the hell…?" He tried to push her away, but failed. He didn't try very hard.

"Mello… they took a kid hostage!"

Now, his gaze narrowed. He was about to say something along the lines of "so what?" but refrained, waiting to see what she was going to say about it.

"They have a six-year-old kid downstairs like an animal in a cage," she said furiously. "I saw Mr. Andrews in the hall—I think it has something to do with some big plan he's working with Piers… my aunt mentioned it…"

"What do you want me to do about it?" Mello asked a little harshly. Why should he care about it?

"It's not right!" she cried. "What did he ever do? I…" She stopped and backed away a bit, and Mello found himself wishing that she was cuddled up against him again. "I guess I'm not making sense… I want to say that he's just a kid, he's not done anything wrong, but… I guess that's the case when we take some adults hostage, too… but… he's only six! It's horrible…"

"I can't very easily reverse things, Lina," Mello said in a less-testy-than-normal tone. "But it doesn't seem like something Piers would do, I admit that."

Matt nodded on the other side of the room. "D'you know much else about it?"

Lina shook her head. "Only that his name's Alex…"

_To be continued…_

* * *

(1—A three-finger bow is when one kneels all the way down to the ground and touches three fingers on each hand to the floor. It's like an extreme—truly, very, very extreme!—gesture of servitude, deep thanks, or fervent apology for a very grave offense. The three fingers are just a result from the way you hold your hand, cupped toward yourself so that your pinkie finger and thumb are tucked behind your ring and index fingers, respectively.)

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_OMIGOSH JUST SAW_ WOLVERINE: ORIGINS_ AND IT ROCKED!! SO HARD!!! REMY IS HAWT, WOLVERINE PWNS IN ALL HIS SMEXINESS, AND FIGHT SCENES EQUAL EPICNESS!!! GO SEE IT NAO. EPICNESS AND AWESOMENESS AWAIT._


	30. The Truth

_**Disclaimer: **_**Death Note **_**is not Timekeeper's!**_

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; helped by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang**_._

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_What do you guys think of me reposting_ Jizen Keiji_? I've changed it so much, it's not even the same story. I want opinions on this—if I repost, will you guys read/review, or is it pointless because it's not worth rereading?_

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_**SECOND DISCLAIMER:** Please refrain from reading for at least thirty minutes after eating; may cause mild panic and severe anxiety. May increase your chances of cardiac arrest. Seizonsha no Fukushuu is not for everyone; please check your local listings and read the summary to see if Seizonsha is right for you.  
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_**QUESTION:** WHY THE HECK DID NO ONE (practically) REVIEW LAST CHAPPIE?!??!?!?! Seriously, if you don't like what I post, PLEASE, for the love of Pete, SAY SO!! I need to know what you guys do and don't like so I can write better stories!! Without feedback, that's AWFULLY hard to tell… So if you don't like this chapter, REVIEW AND TELL ME IT SUCKED. Heck, write a flame (as long as it has substance and isn't just "I hate this")! I don't care!!_

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CHAPTER 30 – THE TRUTH

_In which Kira strikes again._

* * *

Mello gulped. _What? Alex?! It can't be…_

Matt's one good eye widened dangerously (the other was swollen shut from Mello's earlier punch); the unspoken communication between them was "Find out if it's _our_ Alex, and _then _act."

"Where…?" he asked Lina, a dangerous light shining in his eyes.

"On the ground floor, in one of the offices by the lobby…"

_

* * *

_

Twenty minutes previously…

Alex gulped. "Beyond Birthday…?" That name was unfamiliar, but it didn't sound good…

A nodded solemnly. "Beyond Birthday was always known as 'B' for 'Backup.' He was second in line to replace L—first, after I left. B always wanted to become the next L, so much so that he became obsessed with L and his position. Everything L did, he copied perfectly. L thought sugar helped one's mental process, so B ate only strawberry jam. L dressed very simply, so B copied his simple wardrobe. L sat in a strange way, and B copied that, as well. Everything. B even used makeup to replicate the bags under L's eyes."

Alex blinked. That was… kind of sick… Was it even possible that someone could be so obsessed with _his own father_ that they would copy _everything_?!

"After L left to travel the world as a detective, B left the House. He ran away… just like we did. Only B wasn't trying to escape. He'd plotted a way to best L, to prove that L could be beaten. He did not succeed in this endeavor."

"What did he do?" Alex wanted to know.

A paused. That wasn't technically important to the story, but it did make the story that much more credible. He explained briefly the Los Angeles BB Murder Case, watching Alex's eyes grow wide in fear. "But," he said, "that is not the point. The point is that L and Wammy do not hold at heart the best interests of the members of the House. They manipulate them so that they can achieve their own ends. L is the most important member of the Wammy's House, and to ensure that L's title and position never die, they twist the minds of children. They are manipulators." A placed his hands on Alex's shoulders and knelt before the boy. "I am so glad that you escaped that hellhole," he said softly. "That one less child can be brainwashed by L and Wammy…" He trailed off.

But Alex gulped. Was this true…? Did… did his father and his adoptive grandfather really intentionally twist people's minds?!

_It sounds like something Dad would do,_ Alex thought sullenly. _Grandpa Watari… that doesn't sound like him, though…_

_But you know he would follow whatever Dad—no, whatever L says,_ he reminded himself. _Yes… it is a realistic story…_

Alex exhaled softly. "Wow… I'm glad I got out of there," he admitted slowly.

Alessandro smiled. "As am I. Come, my friend…" He helped Alex to his feet and led him to the door. "Let's get out of this cave…"

_

* * *

_

Presently…

Alex now sat in another room, but this one had been blessed with a camping lantern. It lit up the room like a regular ceiling light, for which he was thankful. It even had a window in the door so he could see out of it. A had asked for him to wait here, and had apologized for not having any sort of entertainment, and left.

But… what to do now, but wait…?

He thought of the story of Beyond Birthday and shuddered. His father… he did intentionally manipulate people, but Watari did not. He thought that perhaps A was simply mistaken about that detail, but he shook his head. Those from Wammy's were not often wrong in facts that they _knew _or witnessed firsthand. Then again, A had already left by the time B was being manipulated… hadn't he?

And L didn't seem like the type to manipulate other people into being exactly like him. Mello and Near were examples enough of that—but A didn't seem to know about them. Mello especially was very different from L… and he was still a successor. So how did Mello fit into the story? In fact, Mello seemed to have a lot in common with B, except that he wasn't obsessive about copying L's behavior… just his intelligence and success.

Alex was forced to admit to himself that A's story had some holes in it. And the man rather unnerved him in a strange way. He was so creepy… slinking and diabolical… Alex couldn't place it, but something about A made him want to be somewhere else—anywhere but with A.

He sat in the corner of the unfurnished room. He wanted to be back home with his computer, with his books and toys, with…

With his family…

It was stupid, having held a grudge against them all this time. And over what? Having sent him to the orphanage for a couple months?

Alex didn't even know why he'd been sent, except that it was for the new Kira case.

His anger began to fade, only to be replaced by rueful sorrow for not having listened to his parents. He could've known why he'd been sent away, could've known all about their motives… Was he still upset over the separation? Yes! But he missed his family… even if they weren't biologically related, they were still a family.

_Ha,_ he thought sardonically, _I'm sorry as soon as I'm in a situation in which I might not see them for quite some time. If I have the choice not to see them, I'm fine, but as long as it's out of my hands, I'm sorry about it all…_

* * *

Lina took Mello and Matt down the stairs to the main floor with all haste. When they reached the lobby, however, they slowed down.

Mello's senses were tingling. _This just isn't right,_ he thought to himself. _The place is far too quiet. No, that's not it… it's not like we're in some kind of jungle where the wildlife are all scared away by something, and thus can't create any noise… I don't know what it is. Something's off… Something's just not right…_

They quietly crossed the lobby and entered the dark hall by the front desk. Mello silently motioned for them to stay behind. Surprisingly, Lina didn't argue, but Matt…

"No, I'm going with you," he whispered.

"Stay here, Matt," Mello said forcefully.

"Why?"

"In case we need backup! This hallway is a dead end!"

"Point taken." Matt patted his furry vest, beneath which were two twin handguns secured by holsters under his arms.

Mello stealthily slunk down the hall to the office at the end. His head whipped around to ensure that Lina and Matt were still back at the beginning of the hallway.

He examined the door before him. There appeared to be nothing suspicious about it… but even so, he had to check. Upon close inspection, he discovered a thin wire between the door and the jamb. There. He wasn't sure whether it was to set off an alarm, or a booby trap, or what, but it demanded further inspection. In the darkness of the hall, it was hard to tell where the wire went, to what it was connected. Mello's eyes strained to follow it to the fire alarm bell to the left of the door.

That was simple enough. Practically impossible to see in the dark, and a wonderful way to alert intruders.

Wait…

Mello frowned. Without electricity, how would it be a proper trap?

_The bell itself is a good way to hide something, like an explosive device or another battery-powered alarm, _he thought to himself. _But if there's no connection…_

Mello reached into his vest's collar and slowly removed the pair of cuticle shears from the hidden pocket there. With his leather gloves on, he wouldn't get burned from any electric current running through the wire, even with the metal scissors. Slowly, he knelt down to clip it near the floor, where it would be least likely noticed. He carefully snipped…

Nothing.

He rolled his eyes. All too easy. Wasn't Andrews smarter than this…?

Mello had to pause at that. Couldn't there be some other trap—could this only be a red herring? That was probable…

But as he looked, he couldn't see a thing. Mello wished in vain that he'd brought his flashlight from their room.

_Well, if there is an alarm, that's fine. We can handle that. If it's a trap…_

Mello gritted his teeth. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to stop, to not open the door… but…

_But if it IS Alex, I have to rescue him,_ he thought grimly. _Moreover, even if it's not Keiko and L's kid, I'll probably still need to help him, for Lina's sake._

He turned the doorknob…

Mello didn't hear a thing. All he knew was that suddenly, he was being thrown through the air and back against the far wall with a painful _WHAM!!_

Heat…

Fire…

PAIN…

_"YE-AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!"_

And everything went dark.

* * *

"Scout?"

"Yes, Aimi?" She turned to the girl beside her. Scout had led Aimi to her bedroom, where they could wait until some progress was made in Alex's disappearance. She'd been trying to distract the girl by playing strategy games, but had failed. Aimi finally consented to watching a film, though she wasn't paying much attention to it.

"Is 'Norwood' a common name?"

Scout frowned in confusion. "I haven't heard it before. Why do you ask?"

"Our postman said his name was Norwood, but his nametag said 'Greg Jackson.'"

"Let's find out," Scout said, and she paused the movie on her laptop and brought up Mozilla FireFox. As she searched for 'name meanings' on Google, her head was running swiftly. _Could this have something to do with Alex's disappearance? Kidnappers do sometimes use aliases… so was it a careless mistake on his part, or was it…_

On inspiration, Scout brought up a new tab in the browser and Googled "norwood."

The page was mostly filled with results from "Norwood, Massachusetts." That didn't help at all. But at the bottom of the page, there was a listing that read "News results for **norwood**." Beneath it was a title: "Norwood released on lack of evidence."

With a sinking feeling, she clicked on the link, which took her to a local news website. But the article…

**Norwood released on lack of evidence**

_London, UK – _In the case of robbery two weeks ago, suspect James Norwood was released on lack of sufficient evidence. He was reported to have broken into the home of Heidi Weaver and stolen four items, which were not found by the police. Weaver insisted that she saw Norwood climbing out her kitchen window as she returned from work on Wednesday, April 22, 2009…

Aimi's gasp made Scout stop reading. Beside the article was a picture of a clean-shaven man with dusty brown hair. Aimi pointed to the screen. "That's him!"

Instantly, Scout took Aimi's hand and led her in the direction of Watari's office. "We've got to tell your parents; this is important," she said.

Aimi said nothing, but followed Scout.

"Daddy," came a soft voice at the door. Lawliet looked up from his computer to see his daughter standing in the doorway of the office. Upon meeting his gaze, she walked toward him and scrambled up onto his lap, which he allowed. "Daddy, you need to see this…"

* * *

Matt barely had time to cover Lina's body with his own as the blast sounded, blowing bits of concrete, metal, glass, and wood at them. As far as they were from the rather minimal blast, any and all pieces of debris were trapped in the thick fur and leather of Matt's vest; he and Lina were not harmed. But Mello, who had been only inches away from the explosion…

"_OH, SHIT!!_" Matt's voice was nearly lost in the sound of crumbling brick and concrete as he sprinted down the hall for Mello's limp body. Lina was right by his side as his legs pumped furiously. Wasn't this hallway a lot shorter…? It seemed to take an eternity to reach Mello…

He skidded to a halt amid a thin layer of dust and rubble on the floor. There lay Mello, unconscious. Matt pulled his friend's body into his lap to closer survey the damage. Beside him, Lina was silent, but pale and frightened. "Oh, god…" Mello's left side was burned a horrible black-crimson, mottling his once-smooth skin… his blond hair was charred at the ends. His leather had provided some protection for his skin, and his shoulder seemed a little better, but his left arm, too, was burned horribly. "No…" Matt breathed. "No… no, buddy! No!" He bit his lip furiously and turned to Lina. "Is there anyone in there?" he asked quickly.

"What? Where?" she asked, panicked.

"In that room!" he barked, tossing his head to the room that Mello had been trying to open. He was in no mood to put up with Lina's sudden shocked, scared, damsel-in-distress attitude.

She instantly hopped over the piles of concrete and looked around. It was hard, seeing as there was barely any light. "Hello!?" she called, her voice squeaky with fear. "Hello?!" That was it. She returned quickly to Matt's side, and shook her head. "N-no… Th-there's no one th-there!"

Matt ripped off his vest and shoved it at Lina. "Here!" After that, he stripped off his striped shirt and padded Mello's arm with the fabric before lifting his friend into his arms. "Dammit…" He struggled for a moment, but the adrenaline in his system fueled him easily. "Quick, before someone gets here…" Already, shouts sounded in the lobby. Matt and Lina turned down the hall as it continued to the left and around to the lobby once more. Once there, they carefully sneaked to the nearby entrance to the parking garage beneath the hotel, and from there, to Matt's car. Lina sat in the backseat, cradling Mello's head in her lap and trying to make sure he wasn't sticking to Matt's shirt.

Matt started the car and stepped on the gas, driving them quickly, hastily, out of the garage and onto the street. He tried not to draw attention to himself, and wherever possible, he drove through red lights and wove around other traffic in his haste. He clamped a cigarette between his teeth and fumbled for his lighter. "We'll make it, Mihael," he whispered through clenched teeth. "Hang on, mate…"

Lina, in the back, shook with fear. Not only was Mello injured horribly, but Matt's driving was insanely reckless and crazy! She hated cars, hated, hated, _hated_ them! With one arm, she kept Mello's limp form from crashing to the floor as Matt rounded a corner, and with the other, she gripped the armrest on the door so tightly that her knuckles turned white. After about twenty minutes of driving, she had to wonder…

"Matt, where the hell are you taking us?!"

"Don't worry about that," he told her—rather, demanded harshly. "But we aren't going to a hospital, if that's what you mean."

"Why not?!"

He sighed. Well, if there was one good thing in this situation, it was that when Mello woke up (he refused to think that his friend might not survive this accident), he'd _have_ to stay with Lina, if only to ensure that she didn't spill any secrets of their place of origin…

The Wammy's House.

* * *

Alex gasped. What was that rumble? The floor shuddered under his feet. Nervously, Alex jumped up and carefully stood there with outspread arms, as though to keep his balance. Soon enough, the tremor was past, and everything was still, as if nothing had occurred. It wasn't an earthquake, was it?

Tentatively, he crossed the room to lantern in the center, which sat upon a cinderblock. He picked up the lantern and slid the cinderblock over by the door to stand atop it, which enabled him to see out the window. He saw no one there, no one to tell him what was going on, or if he was going to be released anytime soon. Alex's breath came in shorter, shallower gasps, and he felt the adrenaline seeping back into his system. He was afraid. He didn't want to be here any longer. _Mum… Dad… or… Keiko and L… whoever you are… I'm sorry… please, please come get me…_

He swallowed back a tear.

_I wish my real parents didn't give me up for adoption._

But just hoping would get him nowhere. He'd already tried the door, which was locked. Was there some way to unlock it…?

He looked around the room, but all he saw was the cinderblock and the lantern. The lantern was a metal affair with a large, thick wire for a handle. That might do it…

Alex reached for the top, where the wire met the top cap of the lantern, and pulled—

"YAH!!" He jumped back, blowing on his hands to cool them. It was metal, and the light had heated it so that he'd burned himself. Alex bit his lip and took in deep, slow breaths to calm himself down. _It's just a little pain… you can get over it. It means escaping and seeing your family again. You can do this…_

Again, grimly, Alex reached for the lantern. He tried to ignore the pain, but he didn't last three seconds before he jumped back. His eyes watered. He huffed angrily at the lamp and placed his hands upon the cool concrete floor to soothe his injuries. After a few moments, he tugged off his T-shirt and placed it between his fingers and the metal on the lantern… but with the shirt, he could not feel the heat, but the material slid around the metal uselessly. Grumbling, Alex tightened his grip and tugged at the handle of the lantern. If he pulled hard enough…

But it was futile. The metal was strong and would not be moved. After several attempts, he replaced his shirt and pressed his hands to the cool floor as he tried to think of another way of escape…

* * *

Matt's speed increased as he drove down the country roads toward Winchester.

"Lina."

She jumped. The car ride had been silent for over a half-hour, and the sudden sound of Matt's voice startled her. "Do you have your cell phone?"

"No…"

He cursed blackly and sighed. For another few seconds, silence returned, and he spoke again. "What you are about to see is completely confidential. You do not know these people, nor will they introduce themselves. Their lives depend on secrecy. You will not tell anyone about whatever or whoever you see in this place. Got it?"

"Yes…"

With that, Matt turned down a thin gravel drive that wound back through a patch of woods and to an open, grassy area. Lina, curious (and relieved that Matt's speed had greatly reduced), peered out the windows. The first thing she saw was a large, red brick wall running the length of the open area.

"Hang on," Matt said, and he stopped the car abruptly. Lina's head rammed into the back of the seat before her, but she was only mildly fazed. Matt jumped out of the car; she followed suit and Matt shoved her away to pull Mello from the backseat.

Matt stood before a large gate and looked upward… Lina saw that he was looking at a camera in the brick wall.

_

* * *

_

Beep! Beep!

Light paused. "What the…?" A window popped up on his computer screen, showing a slightly blurred image of a man standing on a gravel drive, holding another figure in his arms. A woman in black stood beside him. It was obvious that it was some kind of camera feed, but he was a bit puzzled. "What's this?"

Lawliet's gaze turned to Light and he propelled his wheeled chair toward him and his computer. His gaze focused on the image before him…

He let out a soft curse. That alerted Keiko instantly. Lawliet rarely used that kind of language, and she frowned. "What is it?!" Had they found some kind of evidence? Some sign of their son?

"It's Matt and Mello," he said flatly, and leaned across Light to type a command into the computer.

"What?" Keiko exclaimed. "What are they doing here?"

"Good question," Near said dully. He wasn't too excited about their arrival.

"It appears that Mello is somehow injured," Lawliet muttered. He watched as Matt replaced Mello in the back seat of the car; the woman slid in beside Mello and Matt continued to drive into the orphanage grounds. "We'll soon find out. Keiko, go to them and help them."

A quick protest died on her lips. She wanted to help her son, but… Lawliet could handle that, and with Light and Near helping… well, she could be spared. She nodded and ran down the hall…

* * *

Lina continued to stare out the windows as Matt drove them past the gate. On the one side, there was a two-story white house. It was beautiful, really. The house was a cute little thing, in Lina's opinion; it seemed the epitome of a domestic dream: man, wife, two-and-a-half kids… a nice green lawn in which the kids could run and play… even a few trees out back for the older brother to climb in. As they passed it, she caught a glimpse of the blackened side of the structure—it had recently been through some kind of fire…

But she had no time to dwell on that as Matt soon pulled the car to a stop and leapt out. She quickly exited the car and stepped aside to allow Matt to gather Mello's limp form into his arms. From there, Matt quickly walked up to an old church-like building with an off-white stucco façade that was covered with vines. Or… well, it was so old, perhaps it _was_ stucco.

Lina trotted up the steps to the door after him. Before he could even knock, one of the huge wooden doors swung open, and there stood a thin Asian woman in a purple shirt and denim pedal pushers. Lina couldn't help but notice her obviously expensive wedding ring as it glittered in the sun. "Matt! What happened?" she asked hurriedly, stepping aside to allow them entrance.

"There was an explosion," he said softly. "We think… Alex is with the Syndicate, now, and we tried to find him, but the room was rigged…" He looked down to Mello's limp form.

Keiko bit her lip. "Come on…" She quickly led them through the halls, up a narrow wooden staircase that squeaked at every step, and down another hall to a room. She jiggled the knob, but it wouldn't open. With a deep breath, she lashed out her foot to strike the ancient doorknob, which fell to the floor with a _clunk!_ "Lay him down," she said breathlessly after pushing open the door. Matt quickly placed him on the lower of the two bunked beds. "I'll go get Watari—you stay with the girl."

Keiko was off like a shot down the hall and back down the stairs to the kitchen, where Watari was busy preparing a tea tray for Lawliet. "Wa-Watari!" she gasped. He turned quickly at the urgency in her voice. "Matt… n' Mello… Mello's hurt…"

"Where are they?"

"I put them in one of the dorms upstairs… 218," she gasped. "His entire left side is burned."

Immediately, his face turned stony calm. "Get the first aid box in my office and meet me back in 218."

* * *

_Gasp… Mello's gonna have a scar, after all! At least he'll look like a man, now. XD (Sorry, I just liked him better with the scar.) Anyway, wow. I hope this was fast-paced enough for you all! It was kind of hard to write… Review if you want Mello to live!! And… review, even if you don't care what happens to him! Heck, flame me!! At least it's a review… Like I said, if you don't like what I've been posting, TELL ME SO, and I'd love if you'd tell me WHY you don't like it. I don't know what you guys want to read, and it's harder for me to spot OOC-ness when I'm the one writing the story. So... that said, if you see anything wrong/bad, TELL ME!!! Oh, yeah, and tell me what you think of reposting_ Jizen Keiji_! (I explained at the top of the chapter…)_


	31. Fatal Blow

_**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Death Note**_**or its characters.**_

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; helped by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang**_._

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_**APOLOGY:** I'm sorry I ragged on you all for the lack of reviews on the last chapter. I compared that chapter's reception (hits to reviews over time) to my typical rate, and the ratio was a lot lower. I suppose I kind of jumped the gun on saying "no one's read this!!" and decided to post the next chapter, anyway, but… well, I hope you guys aren't too upset! I know (or I should, anyway), at this time of the year, school's getting crazy: college finals, prep for high school finals, applying for colleges, graduation/commencement, last-minute projects in middle school, prom, spring sports… *sigh* You'd think I'd know to cut people some slack—I've been through all of those! Apparently, I DON'T know… :P Anyway, sorry!! And thanks so much for the reviews on the last chapter!! :)_

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_**POLL:** __If you haven't already done so, please take a look at the poll on my profile page!_

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CHAPTER 31 – FATAL BLOW

_In which everyone suffers._

* * *

After Keiko and Watari had administered first aid to the stricken Mello, Lina had had a chance to cool down. Watari promptly delivered the tray of now-cold tea and cake to Lawliet, who came to Mello's room to interrogate Lina and Matt.

"Keiko," he said to his wife just outside the door to Mello's room, "go back and continue searching for Alex. Tell Near to make a few calls under the guise of Eraldo Coil to see what he can find."

She protested. "No! I need to hear what Matt has to say, and—and there's a complete stranger in there!" she added desperately. "You can't show your face to her!"

He stared at her silently for a few moments before saying, "The fact that the woman is here means that Matt trusts her at least partially; moreover, now that she's here, she can't leave for a long while. Besides that, you need to tell Near what I—"

"He's freaking NEAR!" she retorted. "He'll have thought of that already! And Matt already told me that he knows where Alex is! I want to find my son!!" She glared furiously up at Lawliet.

He stared down at Keiko, surveying her enraged expression, teary eyes, mussed hair, and gaunt features. Hers was the face of a desperate woman who _needed_ reassurance of her child's safety, and she would stop at nothing until she found him, Lawliet knew. His hands came to rest upon her shoulders, and he kissed her once briefly. "Keiko… I, too, want to ensure Alex's safety. I ask these things to bring us closer to that goal. Now, calm yourself, for we will not find our son if you continue to act so rashly as you speak."

Defeated, Keiko hung her head and sighed. "Fine…" She bit back the temptation to say, "Yes, sir." And she walked, slowly at first, then quickly, down the hall toward Watari's office…

But as soon as Lawliet entered that room, Keiko turned and slowly, oh-so slowly, crept down the hall, careful not to give herself away with a misstep on a creaky old floorboard, back to room number 218. She stood outside the door and listened to every word…

Lawliet tapped one knuckle to the old door, and there was a pause. "No, stay back here, Lina—"

"Why?"

"Stay. Back. If you so much as open your eyes, I will not hesitate to kill you." Lawliet was only minimally impressed by this act; he hadn't known that Matt could put such steel into his voice.

Finally, the door opened slightly to reveal Matt, who was nervously chewing on the end of an unlit cigarette. Wordlessly, he opened the door to admit Lawliet; across the room, Lina sat in the corner, her back to the group. Lawliet perched on the standard desk chair with which every dorm room was equipped while Matt leaned against the wall. "So," Matt began, "this is what happens when you cross A, hm?" He gestured bitterly toward Mello, who was covered with wet pieces of gauze; they were steadily turning pink, then red, as they soaked up the blood on Mello's injuries.

"He should have expected something like this," Lawliet said calmly.

Matt's eyes narrowed dangerously. "He _did_ see this coming; that's why he was so damned careful about his actions. And it happened, anyway. We were trying to find your son, L!"

In the corner, Lina gasped. "L…? As in… the… detective…?" She was more scared than she'd ever been in her entire life. Not only was Mello critically—maybe even fatally—injured, but in that very room was a man who had the power to throw her and at least half of everyone she knew into jail.

"Shut up, Lina," Matt snapped. He remembered her earlier words that she wasn't _in_ the Syndicate; her reaction to true pressure was proof enough that she'd been truthful. He returned his attentions to Lawliet. "Look… we think the Syndicate has them. They're located in an abandoned hotel at…" he rattled off some location in downtown London; outside the door, Keiko listened very carefully, committing each syllable to memory. After a heated pause, Matt continued in a softer voice. "Do you have any idea what A's up to?"

"I believe he's targeting me," Lawliet replied. He did not expound upon this theory.

* * *

Keiko already had what she needed to know. After hearing Matt give away the location of the Syndicate, she tiptoed back down the hall and to the staircase; once she reached the main floor, she began sprinting through the halls and towards the door…

_Alex, I'm coming… It's not going to be too long…_

* * *

Akira groaned loudly as he plopped down on a handy rock, just large enough to serve as a chair. A tall, lean shinigami with a feather headdress stood nearby. "Oh, come on, man, there aren't too many more places you can search. They'll turn up…"

"IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING!" Akira cried shrilly. "Deridovely is a jerkface for hiding all my stuff… Come on, it's not like a few thousand years shouldn't have matured him or anything…"

Zellogi shook his head and sighed heavily. "He'll never grow up. Just keep looking!" The hook-handed shinigami wanted to be anywhere but with Akira. While he put up with Akira's antics, he didn't really love the other death god. Heck, Zellogi was straight! It was just… Akira was the most interesting shinigami around the realm…

But after having spent nearly five days searching for twelve necklaces, two masks, a scythe, a crimson-lined cape, a silk potted fern, and a pink plush bunny toy, even Akira was getting tired of it. "Maybe we should ask Nu…" he muttered. (1)

"Well, if anyone's seen it, she has…"

"I don't know… I'm just getting fed up with Deridovely, lately."

"Keep looking! They'll turn up…"

Akira paused. "I should take a break. I wonder what Keiko's been up to, lately…"

Zellogi was rather relieved at the notion. "Yes! You've been looking for too long. Go on, take a break and get your mind on something pleasanter." _Please, just let me take a nap… that's all I want…!_

The masked shinigami took a sideways glance at his friend, who looked rather tired. Maybe he _should _get out of there, if only to let his friend rest a bit. Akira stood on his long legs and stretched out lazily. "All right. Mmm… well, I'll be back eventually."

Meanwhile, Zellogi _tried_ not to sigh with relief then and there. "Yeah, get out of this stinking place for a bit. Should improve your outlook somewhat."

"Right… well, later…"

Akira slowly stalked over to an area of the shinigami realm that was flat but for several large hemispheres poking out of the ground. These were the windows into the human world. With a loud sigh, Akira strained to sprout his wings to grant him easier passage through the bubble-like windows. His yellow eyes peered briefly at each one of them, to see if perhaps he could catch a glimpse of someone or something near Winchester. It was unlikely…

Finally, Akira found a completely dark window, which was a rare thing. The windows could be adjusted to specific people or places, but it was a slow process; better to find a window near one's desired location. Even better was a blank window, which could be more quickly directed this way or that. But as Akira stared at the window, he saw something vaguely move. It wasn't blank…! Then, he saw it… the soft, red glow of a name and lifespan. It was someone in a dark room who must've just turned around…

What struck Akira was the familiarity of the name… _Lawliet_… Keiko's fiancé's name… Well, now, they were married, but…

Alexander Lawliet…

Akira looked closer and listened. There was the faint sound of the child's breathing, and the tiniest husky sniffle. He frowned. What was going on?

He shifted the window's view just slightly to see that Alexander was being kept in a room devoid of any furnishings, except a cinderblock and an electric lantern. This didn't seem at all like anything Keiko might do. And the boy seemed so afraid…! Or sad… perhaps both…

The shinigami bit the inside of his cheek tentatively and focused the window so that it showed his whereabouts. It appeared to be in London, but in a more rundown section of the city. Akira nodded grimly and quickly—as quickly as he could—moved the window's view to nearby Winchester.

Keiko was easy enough to find; she was running through the halls of that orphanage…

* * *

A soft _thump_ made Keiko stop, though she wasn't sure why. The building was full of strange sounds, many of which could be heard on separate floors or several rooms away from the source. But this… this was somehow different. She turned to see a plain black notebook lying in the hall, unassuming, nondescript, plain, boring…

Only it couldn't have been…

Keiko slowly stepped toward the book and leaned down to touch it. Before her stood a rather puzzled-looking humanoid figure with grayish skin. Dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt, a silky gray tuxedo vest, black bowtie, and a silver mask, there was Akira. His yellow eyes peered at her curiously, lacking his usual alacrity.

"Hey," Keiko said quickly.

"Alexander is your son, isn't he?" Akira asked with an undeniable note of hesitation.

Instantly, Keiko's eyes widened. "Where is he?!"

Akira blinked. "So he's missing… that explains it… He's in London, in a weird, plain old building… looks like it was abandoned or something…"

"Like an abandoned hotel?"

"Exactly like an abandoned hotel," Akira affirmed, and Keiko turned to sprint toward the doors of the orphanage. Akira flew after her, straight as an arrow.

"You know how to get there?" Keiko barked as she threw open the doors of Wammy's.

"Easy-peasy. I'll get you there, no problem."

Keiko ran through the unlocked door of her half-destroyed home, through the kitchen and into the garage, where her new, unused Hayabusa motorcycle sat, patiently awaiting a rider…

* * *

Lawliet quickly ran back up the stairs following his conversation—or rather, interrogation—with Matt. He was soon back in Watari's office… but Keiko wasn't there. That wasn't exactly an entirely surprising disappearance, but it was definitely more than a little maddening. "Where is Keiko?" he asked sharply.

Light's head swiveled to meet Lawliet's dark gaze. "We haven't seen her since she first left…"

"Dammit…"

_Keiko, you are pregnant! I beg you, don't do anything rash…_

Lawliet looked to Near, who had covered his ears with a set of headphones as he spoke softly into a microphone. So, he _was_ acting as Deneuve without any prompting… Again, not surprising, but not comforting, either.

Lawliet stepped out of the room to fetch Watari, whom he had just seen in Mello's room changing his bandages. If he wasn't still there, he would be in the halls, heading for the kitchen.

Lawliet's bare feet made strange-sounding slaps on the wooden stairs as he hurried to the ground floor. Soon, his footsteps were muffled on the ancient, dusty carpet as he ran through the halls once more…

He turned the corner to see the elderly man walking with as much haste as his aged body would allow. He held nothing in his grasp, which likely meant that he'd left the bowl of water and the gauze bandages up in Mello's room for Matt and Lina to deal with. "Watari."

He turned immediately to see Lawliet, but the moment their eyes connected, Watari's right hand instantly grasped his left arm and his face contorted in pain.

Time slowed down.

Lawliet swiftly closed the distance between himself and Watari, just in time to catch the older man as he fell to the ground. Watari landed upon Lawliet with a rather uncomfortable _thud!_ "Watari!!"

Lawliet's life seemed to slow down, and fade into a distant memory… it was the first time in ages he'd felt so young, so useless… helpless…

A soft, strained smile crossed Watari's face as he gazed directly at the dark-haired detective—his glasses had been lost somehow in the fall…

"Mr. Wammy…?" said Lawliet quietly, questioningly, like a child asking for reassurance.

"Good-bye…" he said raggedly, "my… son…"

His eyes never even closed.

Lawliet sat there, stunned and momentarily robbed of all mental and physical functions. The man who was, for all intents and purposes, his adoptive father, lay dead in his arms.

Dead of a heart attack.

By Kira's hand.

No, by A's hand.

The realization created a fierce, burning rage in the young man's breast, and he instantly rose to his feet, jaw set.

"Quillish…?" Roger's voice was heightened with worry as he rounded the corner, alerted by Lawliet's voice and the sound of them both crashing to the floor. He stopped upon seeing the body of his friend at the feet of Lawliet, to whom he looked.

"Roger," came L's voice, soft and husky, but commanding, all the same. "Please take care of the body." He left without even looking the man in the eye.

His muted footsteps carried him through the hall and back up the stairs to Watari's office. "Near."

The white-haired young man turned to look lazily up at the older man, but instantly readied himself at the look on his mentor's face.

"Watari has been made another of Kira's victims. It is clear that A targets only me. I will require police backup as well as those who will assist me in this. Get Matt in 218 and Scout; have them meet me in the lobby in two minutes. Make sure that in one and one half hours, the police are at…" he finished by giving the abandoned hotel's address.

"My son is there, as well. We are dealing with the headquarters of the Syndicate."

"L, the police should be there more quickly," Near said smoothly.

"I will not repeat myself," was the steeled response.

Near did not contest this. He'd never seen L in such a state… and neither had Light, that he could remember.

And to his own memory, L had never been so furious… not even the time when Light had attacked Keiko in the headquarters in Tokyo had he reached such levels of deep, penetrating anger.

The detective was out for blood.

* * *

"Scout."

The woman looked up away from her laptop, on which an old Dick Tracy film was playing to divert Aimi from her brother's absence. Near stood in the doorway.

Scout excused herself from Aimi and followed Near into the hall. "L has requested that you accompany him on something of a raid of the Syndicate's headquarters. You are to meet him in the lobby immediately."

She blinked. Of course she would go, but… there was something odd about Near's manner… "What else?" she asked, all business.

"Watari… has died by Kira's hand," he added in a soft tone.

At the sorrowful news, Scout hung her head in respect, but only briefly. _Be strong. Show no emotion, only respect._ She swallowed heavily. "I see."

And yet, something about Near's demeanor…

"What else?" she asked once again.

Near paused. "I… wish you godspeed, Scout," came the quiet reply. "I'll watch over Aimi in your stead."

"Thank you."

She turned to run for the stairs—all haste was needed if they were to reach Alex safely—but she hesitated. Something made her look back at Near… Their eyes met, green and black. No words were exchanged, but something… something significant passed between them. An unconscious, unspoken, incomprehensible kind of connection that neither could begin to grasp. But at that moment, they both felt as if they somehow understood the other, completely and entirely.

But in a moment, it was gone, and Scout was left wondering…

No time. She'd think on it later.

Near watched as she ran off, a strange sort of worry rising in his chest. He was concerned for Scout, concerned for her safety. In a raid, all kinds of things could go wrong…

He told himself to stop being ridiculous, that Scout was a hardened ex-gang member, and that if anyone could handle herself in a raid, it was her and that L was the one about whom he should worry…

And yet…

* * *

The slam of the door signaling Matt's departure echoed deeply in Mello's brain. He only felt half-there, that strange, dizzying sense of partial-consciousness to which one might wake up after a long night with little sleep. A fog filled his brain, and he tried to pry open his eyes…

Wood…

Wait, wood?

It hit him, then. He'd just gone through an explosion, and was now on the lower half of a set of bunked beds, which would explain the wooden "ceiling" above him. He tried to roll over, but a sharp, heated, burning pain shot through his arm, overriding any and all thoughts so that he felt only a piercing agony in his left side. He hissed quietly.

"Mello?!"

"Nngh…"

A red face with red hair to match was thrust into his vision. Lina stared down at him with concern. "How do you feel?"

He responded with a mumbled curse.

"I figured," she said softly, and bit her lip. A moment passed, and a bit of plastic in the form of a straw was pressed to the right side of Mello's lips. He drank the water, which did help to ease his dry throat a little. Lina blinked down at him with concern in her features…

Mello finally registered that her face and eyes were red from crying. He sighed quietly, feeling a distant ache in his chest as his lungs expanded. One part of his brain gloated: _Oh, how the mighty have fallen. She even cried. _Another part of him wanted to groan in derision for her tears. _Why the heck is she _crying_?! Ridiculous… stupid females and their tears…_ But mostly, he just lay there, trying to ignore the pain that began to slowly, but steadily and increasingly more, throb in his left side. All too soon, the cool, damp bandages on his charred skin felt more like hot sandpaper. He bit back a moan of pain and settled for glaring at the wood of the bunk above him, as though the bed had caused him all his pain.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Mello," Lina said quietly. She was gone from his vision, sitting instead at his side on the desk chair.

"For what?" he snapped with low volume.

"For… for telling you… about that kid, I mean… if I… hadn't…"

"Lina, shut up," he mumbled. "I'm not dead."

"You're damn close!" she retorted; he could hear the choked cries in her voice.

He closed his right eye—he realized that he could not so much as open the other—and paused to calm himself. "Where am I?" It was simpler to ask that than to wonder if they were at "this place that Matt said not to talk about to anyone and not to ask anything about." She probably hadn't been told the name of the orphanage…

Lina paused to collect her words. "Well, er, Matt didn't say exactly, but he said it was a secret…"

"Thought so." He tried to move the fingers on his left hand, but failed. With a frown, he tried to move his arm, but stopped after raising it a centimeter and hissed quietly again in pain.

"Try not to move," Lina told him gently. "It's only going to make things worse."

Mello said nothing to this, but obeyed. The pain wasn't worth it at the moment. He'd try again later.

"I… I was so afraid that you were dead," Lina whispered.

Mello grunted. "I'm not _that_ fragile," he muttered grumpily.

"Mello…"

"What?" He could feel his pulse throbbing in his forehead.

A gentle hand cupped his right cheek. Lina's touch lingered there on his skin, even after she'd removed her hand… "I'm glad you're okay."

* * *

(1—Nu is the shinigami covered in eyes.)

_

* * *

_

Okay, I've got to tell you all right now that my updates will likely be a little more delayed than normal. I'm working two jobs this summer so I can go back to school in the fall, so... that takes up a lot of my time. I work as a children's librarian and as a construction worker (mostly painting/priming)... not sure which is more difficult. :P Anyway, when I get home after work, I'm REALLY tired... so... cut me a little slack, and I'll try try TRY to update as often as I can!

*Sniff* Watari...

Review?


	32. Beyond the Door

_**Disclaimer: **_**Death Note **_**does not belong to me.**_

_Coauthored by _**BlueHarpy**_; helped by _**Madeline Cullen **_and _**iceblueangelfang**_._

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER 32 – BEYOND THE DOOR**

_In which Keiko finds her son and Alex meets someone new._

* * *

Akira beat his wings rapidly in effort to keep up with Keiko's speeding motorcycle. She'd had sense enough to wear a helmet and a light zip-up sweatshirt to protect herself from both accidents and road rash, but nevertheless, Akira was anxious. He knew how reckless Keiko could be, and he didn't want anything to happen to her. He'd never really gotten emotionally attached to another human, before, and… well, it was strange. Akira truly liked Keiko.

The realization that he might have to kill someone with his La Nota di Morte to protect Keiko struck him. _I… might actually… die,_ he thought with a strange twinge of sadness. But a grim smile crossed his face. _And I might not mind it. If Keiko survives everything, it'll have been worth it. And it's not like anyone would really miss me. Keiko would probably be a little upset, but her hubby will help her move on. And Zellogi might be a little down for a bit, but he never really loved me to begin with. I won't be missed…_

"Turn here?!" Keiko yelled at him over the rush of the wind.

"YES."

Akira's thoughts continued in this manner until he'd safely guided Keiko to the headquarters of the Syndicate. Keiko parked a block away and not in the garage; that would've been flat-out suicidal. But as soon as she parked the bike and removed her helmet, she looked the shinigami in the eye with all solemnity. "Akira, I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"That you won't use the Death Note to save me."

Akira blinked and stared at her. She'd figured it out…?! Then again, that wasn't surprising, once he thought about it. She was very intelligent… But two could play at that game. "But—"

"Promise!"

His eyes narrowed at her. "Why can't I save my friends, huh? You expect me to stand by and watch you die?!"

Keiko shook her head. "No… you can't. If anyone, save my son… and my husband, once he gets here…"

"He'll do that?"

"Doubtless," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "He says he's emotionally detached from the world, but he's pretty attached to his family. With both his son and his pregnant wife gone, he'll want to ensure firsthand that we return to safety with all haste. He'll be here."

Akira sighed. "I don't really care about them, no offense," he said with a shrug. "So if I kill any threats to them, I'll be fine." He paused. "Why is it that whenever Kira's around, you're pregnant…?"

"That's not the issue!" Keiko snapped. "I want you to promise not to kill anyone on my behalf," she pressed.

The shinigami stared at her mutinously for a few moments before grumbling something under his breath. "I promise."

Keiko nodded.

But Akira never specified _what_ he promised… _That's the trouble with humans,_ he thought grimly. _Too naïve to realize that "I promise" means nothing unless it's followed by a qualification. And completely unknown to Keiko, I've just promised that I'm _going_ to save her, no matter what it takes._

* * *

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Light asked L as he took the detective aside. Matt and Scout stood nearby, out of earshot, but they could see very plainly what was going on between L and his rival. "You've asked the police to go in _late_ just so you can personally kick some guy's butt for killing Watari and kidnapping your son?"

L's eyes narrowed. "Light Yagami, I do not expect you to understand. When you were Kira, I believe that you were entirely capable of killing your own family. That kind of person will never have any understanding of what it is that I do."

Light rolled his eyes. "Ryuzaki, all I'm saying is that you're more obsessed with your personal vendetta against this A-guy than bringing him to justice, like you _normally_ do. You're going to get someone killed in the process, probably one of your family, and then where will you be? Just let the police deal with this, L."

"Light-kun, if I—"

"If you go in there and get Keiko killed, or if her baby gets hurt in some way, or—what about Alex? What will you do if something happens to them? And what if _you_ get killed, L? You expect Keiko, Alex, Aimi, and the new kid to just live on without a hitch?"

"Keiko will move on."

"Oh, bullcrap!" Light spat. "She will, only because of the kids, but she'll be so incredibly depressed for the rest of her life that she'll probably commit suicide after the last kid graduates high school. That's all she'll hold out for, and you know it."

It did seem like something Keiko would do. L was silent for a moment before he said, "I do not plan to let myself or my family be killed."

"Of course you don't _plan_ to; who _plans_ for that to happen?"

L stared blankly at the younger man. "Light Yagami, we are wasting valuable time."

Light sighed. He just wouldn't listen. "On your own head be it," he said smoothly as he turned to make his way back to Watari's old office.

L pulled out his cell phone as he kept his eyes on the retreating young man's back. "Near, ensure that Light Yagami does nothing while I am gone. If this means chaining him in place, do so. Take whatever precautions necessary."

* * *

Keiko sneaked through the darkened building very slowly, keeping her back pressed close to the wall at all times. She cursed herself inwardly for not having a firearm, wishing that she'd spent at least a few more minutes planning her rescue mission. She was now having to rely on mere stealth, strength, and smarts. She wasn't terribly reassured by her prospects, either.

Once she reached the main lobby of the hotel, Akira flew across the empty space whilst Keiko hid in the shadows of the nearby hallway, which was a little dusty. It looked like powdered stone, and she realized that this was near the location Mello had inadvertently blown up.

"Hey, Keiko!" Akira's voice did not echo in the large space as he yelled across the lobby. Keiko twitched at his sudden voice, and thought very quickly. If she simply walked across the area like she owned the place, chances of discovery were significantly lower. It was unlikely that anyone had memorized each and every face in the Syndicate, and it bought her a little time. If someone realized she didn't belong in the Syndicate, they'd likely be delayed by her confident demeanor, which would give her time to react.

Casually, she strolled across the empty lobby to one of the offices adjacent to the front desk and opposite the kitchens. Akira motioned for her to see through the window…

It was hard to see within, for the room was just as dark as most of the lobby. But Keiko cupped her hands against the glass to block out the meager light from the lobby windows behind her and squinted…

By the light of a camping lantern, she saw the figure of a small boy crouching in the dark room. Her eyes widened. But then, he turned, sensing that some of his light from the door was blocked by something… a person peering in…

He turned his head…

Instant recognition struck them both.

_Alex…!_

_Mum…?!_

Keiko's heart began to beat more quickly, and adrenaline flooded her system as she reminded herself that her boy wasn't safe just yet; they had to get out of there as quickly as humanly possible. She searched for a way to unlock the door while Alex pushed the cinderblock up to the door so that he could stand upon it, granting him access to the glass pane. His eyes were wide as he felt hopeful again.

_So… so they did want to save me? _Keiko's bright smile as she recognized him through the door was fresh in his mind. Suddenly, everything was okay… it would be all right…

A joyous tear slid down his cheek, followed by another, then another. He didn't care. He was going to go back home to his father, mother, and sister, and everything would be okay…

(Never mind the notion that he was adopted. Never mind the idea that Aimi was the favorite. The world with a family, biologically connected or not, the world of Wammy's House and all its occupants, his _home_, was where he wanted to be. Anything was better than _this_ place…)

He watched his mother run off in search of something with which to either break down the door or destroy the lock.

_Everything will be fine, now…_

_Mum came back for me!_

_I'm going to get out of here._

Meanwhile, Keiko's mind was overflowing. _My son! My son is here, he's going to make it out… I'm going to get him out of here if it kills me…_

_Where's something to pick a lock with…?_

_Alex is here…_

_Something to break down the door…?_

_He's safe…_

_He's not home yet. Concentrate on getting him out of here quickly and safely._

_Alex…_

The door was old, and wooden. The lock was a little newer, probably replaced in the sixties, and wasn't the sturdiest of models, but it couldn't be simply broken off without creating a racket. Perhaps the hinges…?

Keiko returned to the door to examine the hinges. They'd take some work, but she could probably undo them. It was her best bet if she didn't want to alert anyone. She set about to slipping her fingernails under the head of one pin to pull it upwards and out of the barrels of the hinges. Easier said than done! It took five whole minutes to get her nails under the pin; she lifted, only to feel a sharp, yet dull, pain as her fingernails protested. One thumbnail actually bent backwards with the force of her lifting, and the pin had barely moved. Still, it was progress. Keiko glared at the hinge and spat upon it several times in effort to loosen the metal. Perhaps that would help. As she continued to lift, she gradually made enough progress to where she could use the pads of her fingers to pull the pin out of the barrels of the hinge. At this point, she turned back to the window to assure her son that she was still there, still going to save him.

Alex saw his mother's face in the window and stepped up to the cinderblock. He pressed his hands against the door, one on the glass, one on the wood, and stared out at his mother, a half-hopeful question evident in his expression. Keiko bit her lip and couldn't suppress a single tear as she nodded at him. Getting an idea, she pointed down, and Alex nodded. They both knelt down to the base of the door. "Alex?" Keiko said softly to the crack between floor and door.

"Mum…?" He knew that now was not the time to ask about biological matters; they could get to the issue of his true heritage _after_ they got home. "Mum!"

"Alex, are you safe? Are you okay?"

"They haven't hurt me," he answered. Now, he was scared as all hell, but he was okay, otherwise.

"Alex, I'm going to send something under the door. You'll see something weird…" Keiko stopped and turned. "Akira, I want you to go in there and whatever happens, stay with Alex."

"What?"

"Akira!"

He paused and gazed into her furiously determined eyes. He knew that she would stop at nothing until she ensured her son's safety. And… if that was the most important thing to her, then he would do it. He nodded and phased through the door. Keiko shoved the Death Note beneath the door, and into Alex's hands. He didn't move.

"Alex, still there?"

"Yes…"

"When you turn around, there will be someone standing there. His name is Akira, and he's the shinigami I was going to show you earlier."

Alex gulped. "R-right…" He felt a little guilty for blowing off his mother's explanation earlier, now that he had solid proof in his hands. He turned his head, then scooted around to where he could see the entire room…

"WAAAH!!" Just because he'd known it would be there, didn't mean he'd been prepared for it.

Akira gave a half-hearted smile. "Hey, kid. Alex, I guess."

"A-Akira?"

"That's me."

"Alex—" Keiko's voice.

Alex knelt down by the door. "Yes, Mum?"

"Akira will protect you. Talk to him about the notebook until I get you out of here. I'm working as quickly as I can…"

"Okay…"

"I love you, Alex."

Alex paused and nodded to himself, then remembered his words. "I love you, Mum. I want to go home…"

Keiko smiled softly and sighed a bit of relief at her son's words. "Working on it. I'm going to get you out of here; I promise."

Alex looked back at Akira. "Is… is this really a notebook… of death?"

The shinigami nodded. "Yeah. It is…"

* * *

Nearly twenty minutes had passed. Alex knew a good deal of the story of the first Kira case, as well as some facts about the notebook. "Hey…" Akira's voice broke the silence. "You wouldn't happen to know of any other shinigami around here, would you?"

"No. I didn't think shinigami were real until I saw you. I thought Mum was making stuff up just to make things fit together."

"Well, how else wouldja kill someone with a heart attack, hm?" Akira responded lazily. "I mean, doesn't that alone seem kinda far-fetched?"

"I suppose so." Alex sighed and wrapped his arms around his knees, curling up into a fetal pose. "Wonder how Mum's doing…" He shook his head and swallowed. "I really hope we get out of here."

Akira's heart went out to the boy. He was so alone, so scared and afraid… he needed his parents badly. He just hadn't figured it out until they'd been taken away from him.

No, until _he'd_ left _them. _Alex propped his face up with his hands and stared morosely at the floor. "I never should've left home. I thought I was doing myself a favor, but I just made a huge pile of trouble for everyone, including me."

"Hey, it's all right, kid," Akira said airily, attempting to lighten the mood. "Your mum's right outside, working to get you out of here, and this will soon be nothing more than a happy memory."

That got a little half-smile from Alex, but he sighed once again.

_CREEAK._

Everyone froze.

Keiko stared with simultaneous triumph and fear at the hinges, and began to furiously spit upon them once again in an attempt to lubricate them. But her mouth was getting dry… It wasn't working very well. Gritting her teeth, she set herself against the wood and heaved once again. A horrible screech sounded again, and Keiko's breath became shallower. Surely someone would hear…!

_Then you'd better get out of here, and quick!_ she told herself. Steeling herself, she hurled her shoulder against the wood with all her might and the door gave way. A high-pitched yelp came from within, and Akira shoved Alex to the back of the room to keep the door from twisting and falling atop him. With a loud _BANG_, the thing landed on the concrete floor. Keiko shook herself to regain her senses and looked into the now-light room. Alex squinted in the light and peered up at his mother. Keiko grinned and was about half a second from catching her son into a tight embrace, when…

The next thing she knew, Keiko was sliding across the concrete floor, reeling from a punch to the side of her head. A nice bruise was now blossoming near her left eye, and she looked up to see a strange man in a sleeveless shirt and tatty cargo-style shorts standing there. "Hey!" he cried. "That's top secret!" He stopped to stare at Keiko. "You ain't one of us, are you…?"

Keiko didn't respond, but snarled and sprang at the man. He hardly stood a chance. He wasn't a fighter by nature, nor a particularly intelligent man by any stretch. He left wide openings for Keiko to exploit, and he was soon knocked unconscious as the heels of Keiko's palms knocked against both his temples. The man lay in a heap, unmoving.

Alex stared from within the room at the aftermath of the fight. He'd known that his mother could fight; she was his primary martial arts teacher, after all. But he'd never known how good a fighter she was until now… Her attacks, both graceful and powerful, were delivered with high speed and possibly deadly accuracy. Alex shuddered as he gazed in awe at his mother standing victorious over the man's limp form.

Keiko turned quickly back to the room and reached for the doorframe. She stumbled over the wreckage of the door and stretched out her arm to take Alex's hand…

Alex could only stare in horror as he saw his mother ripped away from him, fear and shock in her chocolate-brown eyes as she went flying across the hall and into the concrete wall across from his room.

_THUD!!_

Her body hit the wall _hard_, and the breath was driven from her lungs. Keiko collapsed onto the floor, but quickly stumbled to her feet. Another man came into view. This was no amateur, she realized; just by looking at him, it was obvious. Perhaps it was his confident, strong, easy stance, or maybe it was the way his sculpted muscles coiled as he moved.

It could've been the brass knuckles, too.

To look at him, he wasn't much. He was strong, that was certain in his appearance alone. But otherwise, his square chin, blue eyes, and almost plush-looking brown hair spoke of a strange kind of mediocrity in his form. One could pass him on the street and not think twice; he was so nondescript. But after a fight, Keiko knew, his image would forever be burnt into the memory of anyone who fought him.

The man leaned his head to the side to crack his neck loudly, and smirked as he approached Keiko. She closed the distance between them by leaping up to kick at his jaw. If she was quick enough, she could avoid him…

But as her body hit the ground, she knew it wasn't going to be that easy. She could still feel the aching blow from his brass knuckles against her thigh where he'd punched her away. Or swatted away like a fly.

_Calm down and think, Keiko,_ she said to herself as she scrambled to her feet. She coughed weakly as she inhaled. She wouldn't last long if her lungs were tired already, much less her unsteady right leg. _Maybe… if I can just dodge his blows, he'll get a little tired and unsteady, and I can go in for the kill…_

_Do you honestly think you can outlast him?! In the condition _you're_ in!?_

_It's worth a shot. Only take action if you see a crystal-clear opening… no wild attempts. Slow down; you're dealing with a pro, here…_

A powerful right hook came for her left side, and Keiko managed to leap away, escaping with only a graze of his fearsome weapon. She wondered what her adrenaline-to-blood ratio was by this point, the way her heart was beating abominably quickly and her breathing was coming at a rapid pace.

The man feinted to her right and then switched to the left; Keiko anticipated the move and dodged it easily, but the blow was followed by the man's knee, which curved into her side, sending her sprawling. Keiko hit the ground with force, unaware of the pained cry that escaped her lips. "Ungh…" She got to her hands and knees and looked up at the man who was approaching her once more. Fifteen meters away… she saw the grin on his face.

"Bastard," she growled, and sprang at him. Her foot connected with the concrete and he swung downward to catch her off-balance, but Keiko's other foot came down on his thigh. She propelled herself upward. Her knee slammed into his groin, and her fist made contact with his face. The man began to fall backwards, and Keiko leapt away to land unsteadily on her feet as she watched the man stumble to the ground. She wobbled—what was wrong with her knee?!

He glared at her. "Oh, you'll pay for that one," he grumbled. He seemed relatively unfazed by the attack, and Keiko realized that he'd been wearing a cup. She hadn't noticed because of her adrenaline high… a sudden dull pounding in her knee told her that she'd be hurting later, after all was said and done… _Oh, great, NOW I notice it…_

A soft _shhh_ sound came from across the room, and Keiko saw in her peripheral vision the other man slowly getting to his feet. He wobbled a bit, still unsteady, but finally managed to stand.

"KEIKO!"

Akira's voice alerted her, and Keiko sprinted across the room as she saw the first man heading into the room for Alex…

"DON'T YOU DARE!" she shouted at him, and threw her hands to the floor to propel herself backwards, feet-first, into the man's chest. Down he went, and down Keiko went as her wrist twisted and gave way. She shrieked and landed on her side. It wasn't horrible, but it was enough for her wrist to be weakened. Before she could do anything else, a blow landed in her stomach—the second man kicked her…

"NYUUAAGH!" Keiko collapsed onto the floor, but was heaved to her feet without permission. A fist slammed into her cheek, and she was released to crash back onto the concrete floor. The man's boot caught her stomach once, twice—"AAH! UNGH!!" Six… seven…

Blood splattered onto the concrete as Keiko coughed. That last time, he'd gotten her ribcage, and she felt a searing pain inside her chest. _No… no… no! _her mind wailed in despair. _No, I'm… can't be happening… Alex… Little Quillish… Alex?! Alex… Akira…_

_L…_

_Anybody…_

_Get Alex… out of here…_

She creaked open one eye as she lay there on the floor, and caught a glimpse of Alex's pale, sickened, horrified face as he watched his mother beaten mercilessly. That expression was worse than any of the blows she'd received… She screwed her eyes shut and coughed again. Blood splattered down her chin. Her body shuddered, and a tear escaped her swollen eye. _Must… fight…_ She slowly moved her hands to push herself off the floor… "AANGHK!" The man kicked her forcefully one last time, and Keiko fell limp onto the concrete. She wouldn't fight him anymore.

"Dear me, what is this?" A light, almost innocent voice could be heard as A walked into the room. He stared down at Keiko's form and curiously knelt down beside her and gently turned her face toward himself so that he could more properly see her. "Ah, so this must be the boy's mother…"

"Whut… h'v youh dun… t' my sun…?" Keiko choked out.

"I've done nothing, madam, but take him under my wing," A said easily. "Do not worry. He is in capable hands. I have only relieved him of an uncaring family."

"Bahs… stard-d…"

A shrugged lightly. "I have been called worse names." He stood up and stared at the second man with slightly narrowed eyes. "Are you responsible for this?" He gestured to Keiko's body.

"Yes, sir. She was trying to help the boy escape, and she'd already done a number on Irving." He jerked his head toward the other man, who was leaning against the wall, breathing raggedly. "I had to stop her."

"Yes, but you didn't have to massacre her in front of the boy!" A retorted snappishly. "There are very few people in this world who can survive the sight of their mother being brutally beaten without mental scarring."

"Sorry, sir. She could've gained an advantage if I'd taken her away," he said tonelessly. That _might've _been true…

A glared at him. "I will expect more of you in the future, Two-Bit." He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Take her to the second floor somewhere…"

"Yes, sir." Two-Bit leaned down to gather Keiko's limp body into his arms while Alex watched the entire scene play out, helpless to stop it. That was what killed him most. He was helpless! Powerless! Too scared to run and help his mother… maybe all he would've been was a distraction, but it would've been better than nothing…

Akira, too, was furious. He fumed silently behind Alex, his new charge… The only reason he'd not intervened was because Keiko's lifespan indicated that this was not to be her death. That was the _only_ reason. Besides, there might be worse times… and he'd have to make sure he could protect her _then_. In the meantime, he'd stay with Alex and ensure that no harm came to him.

A knelt and gently placed one hand on Alex's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Alex gave him a wide-eyed look of incredulity, one that easily said, "Are you kidding me?!" A sighed softly and hung his head for a moment or two. "Yes, I see. Come… let's get you to a more… hospitable setting. I do apologize about that room, and for Mr. Bitner's _foolish_ actions…" A stopped to glare briefly at the man. "I confess, I did not have suitable quarters prepared for you. That is why you were placed in such a horrible, inhospitable environment."

Alex knew that any inquiry after his mother would be ignored or glanced over. The question nagged at him horribly. "Mum… where's my mum going?"

"My dear boy," A said slowly; he spoke with the tone of one stating the sad, obvious truth. "Do you truly believe that your mother came back to save you because she _loves_ you?"

_…well, yes, in fact, I did…_

"She came here to ensure that the secrecy of Wammy's House would be preserved."

_…and Dad, too…_

"Why do you think that your family has been neglecting you lately?" he continued. "They don't love you. They won't even miss you. Here, you'll be cared for _properly_, given a much better home with people who love you, young Alexander. I can give you the home you've always longed for." A paused, staring earnestly into Alex's eyes… then he stood giving another resigned sigh. "Forget _them_, Alex. You do not belong with them. They are not your family."

A motioned for Alex to follow him, which, after a quick glance at the still-angry Two-Bit, he did. But Alex gave one last glance to his battered and bruised mother, held in the arms of the man who'd beaten her. Her face… so full of sorrow and overcome by defeat… how could she have _not_ come here with the burning need to save him?

* * *

Keiko was slung a little carelessly onto another concrete floor, and her numerous injuries began to torment her as the adrenaline wore off. It seemed like her entire body was in agony… it hurt just to exist… But worst of all was that Alex was still trapped in this horrible place, and now, she was, too. Not that she cared about being trapped, but it meant that not only had Alex's hopes for freedom been thwarted, but she was also a burden to whatever rescue team was being sent.

She tried to exhale, but that lancing pain in her chest… She coughed again, more weakly, this time, and blood dribbled onto the floor, mixed with her saliva. She took another breath and exhaled, making sure her breaths were shallow and careful. But her body ached more profusely, protesting at the lack of oxygen to her tired, sore muscles. "I'm sorry," she murmured before resting her head against the floor.

_Alex… Alex, I'm so sorry… I failed you. I told you that I was going to let you out… I dangled freedom in front of your face… and then, snatched it away. Alex, please understand, I didn't mean for you to see any of that…_

_Akira, watch over my boy…_

Failure weighed heavily on her mind, crushing her spirit. _Alex, I'm coming…_

_I can and will save him. I need to get out of this room. Need… to get out…_

_Feels so good to lie down…_

_Get out!_

She reached her arm out clumsily—it felt like it was made of lead—and flattened her palm against the floor. She tried to move… tried to pull herself forward…

_For Pete's sake, get up and move! You can do this!_

Alex's pained expression resurfaced in her mind. His look of shock at his mother's failure… disappointment in the failed attempt at liberation…

_You will get out of here, for your son._

Keiko hauled herself to a sitting position, trying to ignore that her muscles screamed in pain when she moved, that her many bruises only ached worse when she shifted, that breathing was a chore… She leaned against the wall heavily, resting from that simple, yet demanding task. There was the door…

She used the doorknob to pull herself to her feet and stood. "I will get you out of here, Alex… I promise…" She _threw _her weight against the door. A hollow _thud_ was her response. She hissed in pain as pressure exploded onto her damaged ribcage and arm. "I… _PROMISE!!_" She threw herself against the door again, again, and again… She pounded her fists against the wood, scratched at it with her nails, kicked at it, punched it, yelled and screamed at it, picked at the hinges…

All to no avail. There was nothing she could do but add to her injuries. Heartbroken, dispirited, defeated, Keiko flopped back onto the floor, tears dripping down her bruised face and onto the cold, impersonal concrete.

"I'm… sorry… Alex…"

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I think you'll all hate me, now. Yeah. Send flames and hate mail in the forms of a review, and BlueHarpy will not attack you in your sleep. I'd say I'm sorry, but... I'm not... and this was going to happen. We'd planned it from the beginning. Yup.


	33. Fragments of a Once Sharp Mind

_**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Death Note**_**.**_

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Guys, I'm so sorry I haven't been able to keep up with this story! I've been extremely busy with working 50+ hours a week, two jobs, and my other story—ugh. It's ridiculous. Plus my muse suddenly decided that I needed to draw, so I've been drawing a lot lately (my deviantART page is going crazy, lolz), and my mind went on

Death Note _shutdown. Anything Death Note-ish, I've been kind of almost… I don't want to say avoiding, but not paying special attention to. After over a year and a half of DN, I'm getting a bit tired of it; I needed a break. I PROMISE, I will finish this story. It's gonna take a bit of time, tho. Be patient. Sorry this chapter's goofy… but… you'll see why. I hope it's good enough to make you all forgive my absence as of late!!_

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CHAPTER 33 – FRAGMENTS OF A ONCE-SHARP MIND

_In which two discoveries are made._

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How do you pick up the pieces of a broken relationship?

_How do you mend what was destroyed?_

_After all, you can't use glue on a heart, and duct tape doesn't fix a soul._

_Alex… how can love me after what I've done to you? I've distanced myself, saying it was for your protection, but was it really? Or was it my own selfishness?_

_Lawliet… how can you trust me? After this, after our third child has likely died… after our son is kidnapped by a maniac… how can you trust me with the safety of our family? I can't even be trusted with myself._

Keiko lay despondently on the cool concrete floor, staring at the wall with her good eye (the other was swollen shut). Her tears had long since ceased, but she continued to wallow in her sorrow.

_Heh… this may be the first time I've actually gone "emo" over something legitimate… Heh heh, Lawliet, I've done it! I've actually gotten upset over something right! Aren't you proud? I actually found a good reason!_

_Really! It's wonderful! I did something right for once! I'm okay!_

A soft smile crossed her face. _I'm not useless after all. I did my best—I almost saved Alex. But you'll come in and finish what I screwed up, won't you, Lawliet? You love your son. I may have royally botched up that rescue mission, but I realized what to get upset over! I did something right!_

_Something right…_

_Like little Quillish! He was something right, too, wasn't he?_

_But Lawliet… I did something bad…_

She could see his face clearly before her, wide-eyed, wearing a soft smile that was barely different from his everyday neutral face. But the happiness in his eyes faded, and he was staring at her with sadness… then anger…

_I'm sorry, Lawliet! I didn't mean to—I just wanted Alex… and Alex was all right! He's fine right now! But you'll get him and make sure he'll stay safe, right? But what about Quillish…?_

_No! Little Quillish is fine! Lawliet's got plenty of money! Money can buy anything, if you have enough… _

_Won't you save little Quillish, too, Lawliet? You can do that, right?_

_Because I screwed up…_

_Alex is fine!_

_I did something right!_

_Maybe there _is_ a heaven… maybe Quillish went to heaven…_

_He's better off. So much better off than here with a stupid, idiotic, good-for-nothing mother. Quillish will be fine. Just fine. He's safe, like Alex will be…_

_Maybe it's Lawliet's doing—I mean, he's saved Alex, so maybe he made me come here and he knew—and now it's Lawliet's doing that Quillish is in heaven, so Lawliet saved Quillish, too!_

_I did something right…_

The angry face softened, and a cool hand cupped her cheek. Lawliet was not angry with her—it was going to be fine…

_But what if it wasn't? What if it wasn't Lawliet's doing? And now, he'll hate me! He'll hate me and banish me and I'll go away and—_

_It'll be good. Alex and Aimi will be safe. And Quillish is safe. Forever and ever and ever… And I'll be punished, because…_

_I'm a murderer…_

_One right thing does not outweigh something so bad… or a lifetime of bad things… _

_I killed Quillish. Because I didn't stand aside and wait for orders like a good little underling. I was stupid and rushed in without thinking. Even though I had good intentions of saving Alex, I killed Quillish._

_I'm a murderer._

_Yes… I'll go away and let my family be safe._

_Were they ever my family? How could someone so good—three someones—be related to someone so evil? I'm such… an awful, wretched person… I wish that guy had just killed me when he had the chance. Wish that Kira would kill me—no, a heart attack is too quick for someone like me. I should be tortured and killed slowly, a long, painful death. Nothing justifies murder, and you should pay for it with your own life._

_Unfortunately, there's nothing in this room. I don't even have the strength to stand up and throw myself off the balcony._

_Then again, that's too quick, anyway, so it wouldn't matter._

"Keiko…?"

_The dark one… Keiko… Is it my executioner? Please, make it hurt._

"Keiko!!"

_My executioner wouldn't sound so concerned. This must be a dream. A dream…_

_It's a nightmare! Yes! That's it—Alex is still at home, safe, and Quillish is alive and well… This is just a nightmare! It's all okay…_

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TWENTY MINUTES PREVIOUSLY…

Lawliet had directed Matt to park the car in the garage—as the vehicle was recognizable as Matt's, it would be safe. However, getting into the building itself would be whole 'nother ball of wax. Before leaving the orphanage, Matt had explained to Lawliet and Scout (Lina was to be staying at Wammy's with Mello) the basic floor plan of the hotel and how the Syndicate was likely to be organized therein. After the explosion, everyone was likely to be on alert. This was not good for their purposes, but as the halls were mostly dark, they would likely be safe.

Once inside, they were to split up: Matt would go under the guise of "business as usual" and try to find out what was going on; they could report back to one another through text messages. Scout and Lawliet were to search for any signs of Alex, Keiko, or A.

"Now, if Keiko's been discovered," Matt had said over his rough sketch of the hotel's plan, "she'll probably be put in a room on the second floor. The rooms in the west wing are usually kept empty for captives, hostages, prisoners and the like. Alex might be there, too…"

"No," Lawliet had responded immediately. "A would have taken Alex into his own custody. He is targeting me, and he wants to get to me. The surest way of doing that, in his mind, would be take my son."

"Then… if Keiko's caught, wouldn't she be there, too?" Matt wondered. He cringed. "This's gonna be rough. A's living in the top floor."

"Keiko would be a danger to A, and would therefore be placed away from him." Lawliet's gray eyes were hard and resolute. "No. Alex isn't smart enough or skilled enough to break away from or fight A. Keiko is. A would know this and would likely treat Keiko as any other prisoner. The only way he would use her would be as a last resort, or if I could witness whatever was being done to her."

Silence had followed. Neither Matt nor Scout contested L's word; he knew the enemy they were facing. Moreover, he had years of expertise and experience behind him, and an IQ that was above and beyond their own. He would know.

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NOW…

Lawliet, having slipped into the hotel through a back door behind the kitchens, was now making his way to the second floor of the building. Scout was currently observing traffic going through the main lobby, hidden in the shadows by the back hall, and Matt was in search of Jack Smitheson. He was acutely aware that there could easily be someone guarding Keiko's prison of a room. What he needed was a distraction… there would most likely be more than one guard posted, if at all, and his chances would be better if he could take out the remaining guard(s) without the help of an extra.

He finally reached the floor specified in the plans, and slowly crept down the hall. He peeked very cautiously down the corridor, and saw that there were but two guards.

Child's play.

Lawliet, seemingly cool and collected, and jumped in the air, purposefully creating a loud thump! as he landed. In the distance, he heard the one guard murmuring something to the other, and then, the soft footfalls of the man on the carpet as he came to investigate the noise. Lawliet readied himself for when the guard arrived…

In a few moments, the guard peered around the corner, and before he could react, Lawliet had slammed the man's gun up into his face—the weapon fired into the ceiling before being thrown several feet away—and Lawliet's palms whapped him on his temples. He was out cold.

A low curse sounded from the remaining guard, who'd heard the racket, and he came slowly down the hall. Lawliet waited until the man was almost around the corner, and came flying out from around the corner, surprising the guard into hesitation. That was his opening, and just as quickly, the second guard was down, the result of a powerful kick to his face.

After collecting the abandoned firearms (two total) carried by the guards, Lawliet found the card key for the hotel room in the second guard's breast pocket and was soon slowly opening the door. "Keiko…?"

Dread made him go cold, and his every sense went afire with adrenaline.

"Keiko!!"

There she lay on the floor, face turned to one side as she lay on her stomach. Lawliet was down on his hands and knees in an instant, staring into her face with concern. Her left eye was dark and swollen shut, and another bruise purpled her cheek. Blood stained her chin in a splattered kind of way. Her left arm was entirely dark with blue and black patches. Her hands were bloody and bruised, and splinters stuck out from her fingertips, which were dark with what might've been dirt; her fingernails were ragged and torn.

Lawliet could hear her ragged breath, see her eyes occasionally fluttering open. Her expression flickered constantly from contented to feared to heartbroken and back again; incoherent phrases could be heard as she mumbled constantly.

"Keiko… tenshi…" Lawliet placed his hand on the side of her face, gently, so as to direct her vision to him. She didn't seem to be registering his presence, which worried him.

A faint giggle came from between her swollen lips. "Just a dream… okay… 'vrything's 'kay…"

She'd _snapped_.

She'd finally lost it, and for real, this time.

Lawliet felt his heart drop into his stomach. A cold chill ran down his spine. "Tenshi, can you hear me?!"

"Lawliet! You're here," she murmured, smiling happily. "They're safe, they're both safe. It's only a nightmare. I'm okay."

"Keiko, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you."

Lawliet thought of pinching her to convince her that she was, in fact, awake, but could see no place where he could do so without hurting her further. His wits, forgotten for the past few moments, returned with the weight of heavy dread. _She's been beaten nearly to death. She could very well be in so much pain that her body just doesn't register it anymore. And with the lack of pain, she could very well choose not to believe that what she's gone through even happened, for there isn't evidence of it that she can see._

If Lawliet had been furious before, he was livid, now. Seething with rage at the ones who'd ripped his family away from him instead of attacking him outright like they should've! It was low—beyond low, it was savage and brutal. Neither Keiko nor Alex had anything to do with A's vendetta toward him; what had they done to deserve such punishment?!

How could it have been that less than twenty-four hours previously, he and Keiko had been safe in their room, making love and just enjoying one another's presence…? Less than seven hours ago, they'd been looking at the image of their unborn son in the doctor's office. And now…

It was too sudden. Too surreal.

His mind begged for him to escape this vicious reality. It couldn't be happening—_wasn't_ happening. No, it couldn't be. It was too…

Too real.

It _was_ happening, and there was little he could do about Keiko's injuries. What he _could_ do was to get her out of the building and to a hospital.

But what about Alex…? Probably being fed all sorts of hideous lies by A himself, and likely scared witless.

What about little unborn Quillish…? If Keiko was beaten this badly, she probably had been punched or kicked in the stomach at some point, and even if not, she would need medical attention. The blood on her chin was likely the result of internal bleeding. If that was true, then Quillish would be in danger, as well.

Lawliet swore blackly and curled one hand into a tight fist, drawing blood from where his fingernails cut into his skin. That tiny bit of pain brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes and peered down at Keiko.

"Why d'you say that?" she wondered in a half-slurred tone. "You don't swear."

He exhaled slowly. "Keiko, we need to leave."

"Okay. I don't like nightmares."

"The way out of this nightmare is to get out of this building. I will carry you."

"That's strange," she said in a soft voice. "Usually you just have to wake up…" But she smiled suddenly. "Lawliet, I did something right!"

_Do I even want to know what her insane logic has made her to believe…?_ "Please, if you can, roll over. I must pick you up." Very slowly, Lawliet helped her to turn onto her left side—

Instantly, Keiko's face contorted in pain and she hissed. A faint whimper escaped her lips. "It hurts… make it stop, Lawh…!"

It was all he could do to keep from panicking. Lawliet felt his heart pounding wickedly in his chest, and his adrenaline felt like it was on constant release. "As soon as I can, tenshi. Be strong; I'm here. I'll take care of you." He reflected with a tiny twinge of guilt that it was first time he'd said such words as "I'll take care of you." Why hadn't he said that so much oftener? Why hadn't he held her tenderly in his arms each second he could spare? Every last moment was so precious… and yet… only _now_ was he realizing just how precious his time with her had been. He'd not taken it entirely for granted… just…

In just a moment, Keiko was cradled carefully in his arms, curled against his chest. Her fingers grasped at the material of his white shirt, but her grip was too weak to keep the fabric in her hand. Lawliet fought off the urge to kill something by telling himself that it would be more profitable to wait until he came face-to-face with A himself to unleash that particular desire.

"Law… liet… is this… really… really a dream…?" Keiko gasped. Crystal tears melded her eyelashes into sloppy clumps.

His throat went dry. He wanted to tell her that it was… "No. It's very real." His head spun just a little as he said those words, as if to attempt to convince him otherwise, and Lawliet clamped his teeth together tightly. He turned toward the door…

Bloody smears of handprints and fist-marks painted the back of the door, and he guessed she'd initially been either furious or upset enough to take her mixed emotions out on the door itself, at the expense of her own hands. Near the bottom in tiny letters read "RIP." The sight made his insides go cold… his legs felt like cottage cheese, unable to hold themselves together.

_No—get up. Keep going. Get out of here… get… out…_

_At least get Keiko to the car. Scout can take her to the hospital. You can stay and find Alex._

"I will get you out of here."

"Thank you…"

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Scout checked her cell phone at the feel of the soundless vibration against her leg. It was from L. "Found keiko, scout meet me at car asap."

She nodded noiselessly and stood slowly. She just had to make her way back to the lobby and down the stairs; it would not take long. But moving out into the open made her vulnerable and able to be spotted. She would have to be careful. There was that one man moving around, presumably a guard.

As long as she timed everything properly, she should be all right.

In just a minute, she was able to venture out into the lobby.

Her mind returned to the text message. If L was wanting Scout to meet him at the car, there was presumably something wrong with her. But what? Was she beaten? Unconscious? Keiko was a normally tough woman, and could hold her own in a fight. Her intelligence allowed her to find various holes in the enemies' attacks, or she could use her surroundings to her advantage.

Scout frowned. _Unless she'd gone up against a truly seasoned street fighter… if she'd gone up against someone who knew what they were doing, even she might've gone down._

She was so lost in thought that she didn't think to look before turning the corner. _Thwump!_ Scout ran smack into a muscular man of medium stature. "Sorry," she muttered, but she froze.

_It couldn't be…_

After nearly six years of absence from the streets, his presence was unmistakable. Her first instinct was to get away; she needed to help L and Keiko. Her second instinct…

…was fear.

She stared up into the man's ice-blue eyes, which held her in place as effectively as iron chains would have. Paralyzed, Scout could do nothing under his imprisoning gaze.

It wasn't often that Scout was afraid. When she was… well… it was _always_ merited. She never was afraid without a damn good reason.

The pause lasted an eternity, wherein they both stared at one another, him, down, and her, up. The air fizzled with electricity that coiled its way into Scout's bloodstream, sparking her from the inside, melting her stomach with panic. How long would it be before she burst into flames? How long would it take her to explode?

"_Shea_?!"

Her mouth was dryer than the Sahara. She swallowed heavily, trying to find her mind, which had conveniently vanished in the heat of the moment. "T-Two-Bit…"

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TO BE CONTINUED…


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